Your Pastiche Heart

The day I kissed you 
I tasted
your pastiche heart. 

The frothy tang of 
pineapple juice gone stale,
from the day you were too lazy 
to get out of bed. 

Freshly pressed newspaper smell
rolled up, lying at your doorstep.

Crinkles in your bed sheet.
The shape of you sleeping. 

Curled toes on a cold floor
after that long sleep you had. 

Smattering of instant coffee
on your kitchen counter.

That pesto stain from 
the dinner date down town. 

Everything made up
Your pastiche heart. 

There were also
certain things that
your pastiche heart
was not made of. 

It was overcrowded.
So all I left behind
was some glue
to hold together
Your Pastiche Heart. 

Street Lamps

I was walking down the boulevard
that was taking me away
from you
because my back was turned.
If it wasn't I'd bump
into you.
Rows of street lamps were my
knights in shining armour-
Delivering me from memories,
one at a time.
Then you called out to me
Saying I've left my keys
The boulevard melted into sea
The lights went out
Plunging me in
leftovers
of where the glow of lamps had been.
After all, the road that leads somewhere
also leads away from it.