Watching La Musica
by D. DeMartini
Monday, February 07, 2005
Not rated by the Author.
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I miss him in a sad way
But a settled way.
As if my heart knew before I did
that I could never have him.
That he wasn't ment to be mine,
even as it gave itself away.
He knew he had me even as he
left for the last time.
He kept his hand on my waist
a little too long.
And the kiss was too rushed.
held back too hard.
And so he gripped my waist.
I cried, knowing I would cry again.
That I would never stop looking for him
or feeling his hand on me, holding me back from all we weren't.
the way he cocked his head and called me
Or slipped my rings off my fingers
as we watched the girl dancing
in a fire we would never have.
His voice reminding me of the lastness
of that last night.
And how we held back.
For fear of what we could never have.
Could never give.
We used to dance.
And I would close my eyes.
Feeling him turn into me and lead my hips with his fingers,
and i would smile,
tilting my head slightly back
as he whispered,
"bonita, preciosa, why do you close your eyes like you can see la musica in your head?"
"Because I can" I laughed.
And so we took turns.
the other watching la musica.
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|Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
|i love latin music, especially salsa and mariachi! well done, terrific!
(((HUGS))) and much love, your tx. friend, karen lynn. :D
|Reviewed by Jeff Mason
|Ok, I'm hooked. You now have another fan. -- Jeff|
|Reviewed by Bonnie Torrente
|AHHHH! La Musica! How I love Latin music.
This poem took me to a time and place, when
I danced to "La Musica" with someone leading my hips with
a delicate touch. Thanks for taking me back.
|Reviewed by Fritz Barnes
|I love this! Off to read more of your work. :)|