This poem is deeply indebted to multiple Nick Cave moments (That's right, his genius doesn't just write lyrics, it writes moments) X
Down on the corner, her smoky eyes
And parted lips measures up their size.
Shampoo fresh hair, dyed deep black,
All mystery blown, floats down her back.
'I'm not interested in things that have been,
More what memory selects and cracks in between.'
Her face comes to him from deep within depths,
All outward motion leads to stillness.
Presses his face to the glass a while,
Dreams of seeing her, that crooked smile.
Smile it for me one more time,
I'm aimless without you.
"Its been a while" he'd say.
"You've changed" she'd say.
"We're all changing" he'd say.
"Nothing changes" she'd say.
He stands at a dish-filled kitchen sink,
Soapy water thoughts take him to the brink
Of a stained white-flagged, bittersweet surrender.
"It was wrong, was it?"
A widower of that sweet mystery,
Without a past, but with history.