Nina Simone was singing
About a sinnerman and
I was thinking of one.
A delicious construction of
Skin and bone that
Had the power of stealing
My breath.
As the record played
And the memories unfolded
In front of my mind's eye,
I could not help feeling
Regret.
Despite long walks on
Moonlit beaches, or
Fingers interlaced at the pinnacle
Of making love, my memories
Were tainted with regret.
Regret for walking away
Leaving him standing alone
Under a perfect full moon
That transformed his once handsome
Face into a macabre mask.
Regret for unfurling my fingers
From his grip and letting go
Of the one man who knew
My secrets, my fears,
Me.
His only sin being
Him loving me unconditionally.
As the song came to an end,
I lit a cigarette, lighting
The darkness for a second
Or two and I took a long
Drag, inhaling a slow death.
I reached for the phone,
Dialing the first six digits
Of his number, my finger
Hovering over the last digit.
With all the courage
I could muster, I pressed it.
The line connected, it rang
Three times, then I heard
A voice, a female voice.
I quietly replaced
The handset on the cradle,
And for the first time in
A long time, I wept for
My sinnerman.
I waited too long and
Now, my sinnerman found
Someone to run to.
Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets
Never heard of Nina Simone's Sinnerman? Check out the video below:
10 comments:
ah it's so tough when we find that it's too late for coming together again...great capture of the mood with the images...the moon...the smoking..great storytelling
You so captured this.........fantastic write!
ah, def a hard moment when we find out that we can no long have what we could have...and too late appreciate what it brought to us...you def set the tone in this...
Regret and knowing one has missed an opportunity are some of life most piquant pains. This was set up perfectly, then executed perfectly.
Loved this.
Regret and loss of something that was so good--very poignant write--
Great writing.. I can feel the pain..I know the regret
You put it all down--in sweat and tears and words. Only worse feeling might be at death, knowing how many millions of chances I blew to be kind, cheerful, trustworthy, helpful, friendly, honest, couteous...yes, and brave.
When it's over, it's over. Suicides have been performed on less. Death blow was the phone being answered by a "replacement".
Loved this scenario--so true!
Sometimes we don't know a good thing until it's gone.
Aaaah, such a sweet, poignant, sad tale of lost opportunities, bad timing, regrets...
Thanks everyone for the positive feedback, this poem has become one of my favourites. I like the idea that life is messy and I'm happy that this poem conveys this...
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