silences

Humming your Nocturne on the Circle Line,
unlike the piano, running out of breath

I've been writing you out of my life
my loves (one out, one in).

I've pushed you out of the way to see
what the gaps in my life might look like,

how large they are,
how quickly I could write them in;

and not (at least till I've lost you both)
rewriting you only means

that the spaces I'm not writing in are where I live.

-·-mimi khalvati-·-

My Pretty Rose Tree by William Blake

A flower was offered to me;

Such a flower as May never bore.

But I said I've a Pretty Rose-tree.

And I passed the sweet flower o'er.

Then I went to my Pretty Rose-tree:

To tend her by day and by night.

But my Rose turnd away with jealousy: 

And her thorns were my only delight.