Poetry by the author writing as Serge Gurkski
Does the dog still bark when after midnight the heat forces you to fling your window open? I miss your laid-back voice in the dark. How does the third layer of blue dry on the painting you started for me? I don’t have bad memories though sometimes I feel I should have yelled at you just once to ease the pain and for the naïve daydream that we will never share.
We are both jaded from too many sunsets of love sinking low behind picturesque silhouettes.
Come out my heart, let’s escape once more to your lonely sea shore to watch the sexless sunset because this love is not meant for us.