How Late Is Too Late?

Act I.
From twelve midnight to twilight,
I lie down on a blanket on the rooftop,
between a bottle of wine
and my father’s old typewriter.
I am growing too careful as I age,
so when you tell me that you love me,
I pretend I don’t feel the same.

Act II.
I am unfolding. I sit at the edge of the rooftop,
surrounded by city lights and white noises.
Thirty-seven desperate missed calls.
I turn off my phone.
I’m thinking of explaining my pain
on all the ways I know how,
but all I can come up is “I’m sorry.”

Act III.
I once read that the Earth is a little
over 4.5 billion years old,
and that the history of life began
about 3.8 billion years ago.
I may have underestimated time, 
and how it changes people and feelings.
I am no longer afraid
despite of how careful I am,
so when I tell you that I love you,
I pretend that you still feel the same.


◄ Triptych #1: Coffee, Paper, and Storm

Best Friend ►


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Marie Alyza

Thu 13th Sep 2018 02:56

Thank you everyone for your comments! I really appreciate it. ??

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Wed 12th Sep 2018 07:44


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Martin Elder

Tue 11th Sep 2018 22:38

I love the detail you have applied to this piece. It really sets it apart from other poems.
Nice one

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Taylor Crowshaw

Sat 8th Sep 2018 11:43

Brilliant I agree with Big Sal....the scene is set the play unfolds. Clever..

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Marie Alyza

Sat 8th Sep 2018 03:59

Thank you, Big Sal! ♥

Big Sal

Sat 8th Sep 2018 03:38

Wonderful how you split the stanzas into Acts. Another great one.?

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