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Meaning of Life

posted May 20, 2009, 11:09 AM by David Storlie   [ updated Feb 17, 2015, 8:02 PM ]

When I focused
I was cropped from
the long throw of your lens
Never since films
when the shade on your
face fell open like a yawn
And the light
above the sheet draped
over a noir dream
Though I've said
murky words
I never believed
When you spoke, but your
lips were truly
only yours.
Eyes were some kind of pale empty
rolled back somewhere uninvited.
If some final scene had ever presented
I struggle to remember when
we sang away from that old film
I can't enough to regret
nor stop imagining now
dancing, what it would have been.
We called it a movie then, but
I remember how amazing I found your
voice, your movements even as the grass
glistened. Why I didn't have the nerve
then, when life was so free, I don't
remember?
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