Satellite of Love
Wishing on a shooting
star
that turns out to be an
old satellite
in a decaying orbit
burning against the
outer edges
of a twilight
atmosphere.
My wish, forgotten now,
against the memory of
my love for you,
burning in the toxic
atmosphere
of your casual
disregard.
Do you remember me at
all?
I still sing the song
you wrote
the one about you being
in love
(just not with me.)
It's been twenty years
and I can't remember
the words
but it really doesn't
matter.
No-one remembers Castor
and Pollocks anyway.
Anyway, you must be way
old now
and I can barely
remember your face,
though our two dogs
were my best friends
and I never saw them
again.
No comments:
Post a Comment