A/N: Again, a Noir piece unearthed from the computer; this was written nine months ago. And now that I'm reading it with fresh eyes, it does come off a tad cheesy, but still worth posting, I think.
I Cannot Recall You Gentle
I cannot bring to mind
A pat on the shoulder,
A squeeze on the arm,
Or an affectionate embrace.
There are only
"Good morning"'s and "Good night"'s,
"Shoot to kill" and "We're out of time."
There is only
A perfume of chic indifference,
Of profession,
Of business -
Dust on the carpet,
Pencils on the table -
Wafting towards me
Every morning,
Every noon,
Every night;
All in a day's work.
You are
Chiselled in marble European royalty -
Eyes always set,
Jaw firm,
Your chin lifted high,
Never to waste a drop
Of sweat;
Of blood;
Of tears.
Life is too short
To be squandered away
On softer things.
When you read
The message I left you,
Did your eyes skim over it
The way they do
When you read our clients' offers?
Or did your eyes roll
The way they do
When you lose your keys?
Or perhaps
Did your eyes
Fill with tears
The same way mine did
When I teased out the strands of my heart
With a pen
And gave them to you
On paper?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
It does not matter.
You never told me
And I know well enough that you never will.
But what matters is
You went for me -
You sculptured lady of marble
And of marble veins -
You went for me
All the same.
I cannot recall you gentle.
But then again I do not need to,
For there are some things
That are better said
Unsaid.
fin