Your Poetry Dot Com - Return to Preston Street

Array ( [sid] => 160920 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Return to Preston Street [time] => 2010-07-03 08:06:19 [hometext] => A poem of love and addiction, or love as addiction. [bodytext] =>
Rumours came softly like scent on a breeze.
I should not have listened but I could not appease;
my passions, my pleasures, my pain, my arousal.
I needed to know if those words were unfounded.
And so I returned,
to the place where I’d left.
The street where you burned.

It sickened me quickly, the sights and the sounds.
Ghosts of the past that still wander around.
I waited for hours that crept into night,
refusing each offer of pleasure, delight.
No sign of my lady, my lover of old.
The street still keeps busy, the city still cold.
I return home without answers,
restless yet listless
from Preston Street dancers.

I questioned no one, so that I would not know
and vowed to myself to Preston Street go.
I return nightly and search so discreetly.
In every doorway I pray that you’ll meet me
Still I search on.
You’re never here
but I feel you’re not gone.

[comments] => 3 [counter] => 205 [topic] => 22 [informant] => debris [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Return to Preston Street

Return to Preston Street
Date: Saturday, 3rd July 2010 @ 08:06:19 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: debris

Rumours came softly like scent on a breeze.
I should not have listened but I could not appease;
my passions, my pleasures, my pain, my arousal.
I needed to know if those words were unfounded.
And so I returned,
to the place where I’d left.
The street where you burned.

It sickened me quickly, the sights and the sounds.
Ghosts of the past that still wander around.
I waited for hours that crept into night,
refusing each offer of pleasure, delight.
No sign of my lady, my lover of old.
The street still keeps busy, the city still cold.
I return home without answers,
restless yet listless
from Preston Street dancers.

I questioned no one, so that I would not know
and vowed to myself to Preston Street go.
I return nightly and search so discreetly.
In every doorway I pray that you’ll meet me
Still I search on.
You’re never here
but I feel you’re not gone.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ debris

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