Ken's Poetry

This Half Of Us

We spoke our own language
and no one understood,
a childhood joke
out of control:
but people came to peek and poke
which made us worse.
We were so close then,
wore each other’s face
and hands and clothes,
finished each other’s thoughts
felt each other’s moods and agues,
but that was spoiled ..
we could not share our loves.

Seeing that half of me
laid silent and straight
her warm flesh
gone still and cold
I know that part of us is dead.
Kissing her unyielding cheek
this half of us sighs,
says goodbye.

I take her dress
her necklace and her rings
for souvenirs.