an unrehearsed universe

Love Spell # 9

You only write
sad love songs.

why not try writing
a poem
about a tree

a story about
the ghost
in the machine?

It’s the same thing 
you’ve nothing original
to say about it
anymore

if you ever really did.

The kiss of death –
dear god
I even think in cliché –
is that you are right.

When I try to write
something else
something beautiful
something false

the words mutate 
into cracked reflections
of deep-set insecurities.

What I actually say
is:

I write love songs
to trick you
into staying.

You’ve already left.

It cannot hurt
to try to keep you
this time

by exorcising
the demon
of the first leaving

with my pen.

That’s seriously strange
and besides
no one these days
uses pen and paper; 
you need new metaphors.

Everybody knows
the only way to cast
a proper love spell
is on paper
with heart's blood,

your comment being
cleverly designed
to free you
from my incantations.

Too bad I am
relentless
in the pursuit

of my desires
and cannot
take into account
yours.

What I say is:

You left
and those songs
brought you back.

Then you lay your head
upon my shoulder
saying nothing at all.