Californian Sun..
I think of then but I have let him go
I do not wish to be a Lady Caroline
I am no Caroline and he is not a Byron ..
I let him ooze like some plump fig
Dripping thru the sticky fingers of my memory.
Pleasant except for this or that.
Black room... flesh near
An edgy thing that never became clear.
I lay quite still ...bones very still..
The nights were just like that
.
A closet painted white.
No blame attached to such a simple fact
Shirts hung in silence..
Lined up , one by one..
Hot summer oranges
The Californian sun was burning
Thru my heart.
I should have paid more heed to that .
Kristine Byrne 2012...