i shook your hand and
i knew you were trouble.
your quiet voice and
slender fingers,
a cigarette between your teeth
that first day lingers.
you looked at the world
with a sharp eye but
under my yellow umbrella
you stayed dry.
as we slept
i reached for you and
you never stopped me
the whole night through.
why then did you go quiet and
leave me to wonder
why you thought my heart
was yours to plunder?
when i was in pain
you grabbed her hand and
left me in the pouring rain with
puddles on the cobblestone.
i knew you were trouble but
i loved you anyway.
TUSCANY / Florence, Italy
YOU ARE READING
Camera-eye
PoetryA little book of poems & photography. camera-eye (noun): 1. observation that is detached and photographic in detail 2. ability to hold in mind Thoughts and views of life; the little things and the grand moments, the good and the bad. *All photogra...
