Last Night

Last night your mouth on mine was counterfeit,
Losing its belongings along the way.

And in this morning's shadows the bed
Holds shape but nothing else. Perhaps,

Perhaps there could be reason, perhaps
There could be cause, or maybe you have

Simply lost the interest of love I had thought
We shared. Whatever happens now my smile

Cannot be the same, the way in which I fold the patterns
Of my life will not be the same,

Your mouth, last night, on mine counterfeit,
Watching the blooms of disengagement follow

The patterns of stars that come
In the night skies that have nothing to do

With us at all, save colour in misgivings,
Like the tragedy that smiles at the misery

One simple action can unfold, your mouth
Last night, on mine, counterfeit.

© 2004 John Richard Cornwall

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