Because It Will Not Be

House of Heart

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.

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