Did you hear the wind today?
It was screaming.
And again I looked for God.
No more saw a spot on the wall,
Before you said you were leaving, again.
Lying motionless on the rusty sofa,
I count the minutes for the macaroni to boil
as if the tension would cook off with them,
and smash the red radio against the wall.
Left with a bodiless bed
And only knives protruding
From your great lips in the nite
I question,
Just how many “sorrys” are left?
It was screaming.
And again I looked for God.
No more saw a spot on the wall,
Before you said you were leaving, again.
Lying motionless on the rusty sofa,
I count the minutes for the macaroni to boil
as if the tension would cook off with them,
and smash the red radio against the wall.
Left with a bodiless bed
And only knives protruding
From your great lips in the nite
I question,
Just how many “sorrys” are left?
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