poetry log: sarah

|| originally written on: 21/11/2024, modified on 23/1/2025 ||

I'm sorry for breaking your heart.

I still remember the curve of your cheek

and the shade of your lipstick,

faded from the riverside breeze.

the museum I said I'd take you to,

and the downtown walks

dressed like two dolls,

porcelain hands clasping each other.

"to stay warm.

come, this way.

don't let go of my hand, Sarah,

the pavement is slippery."

I'm sorry I wanted to touch you

not as a lover,

but with the warm reverence of a comrade,

of colleagues bent over the same textbooks.

I'm sorry for breaking your heart.

you wished for a beloved,

and I wished for a companion.

we could have been beautiful together,

in another time and place,

where the gears spin differently

and the automaton we built never broke. it still works,

it writes our story as friends,

the two inventors we could have been.

I'm sorry for breaking your heart,

one day I'll build you a new one

out of copper and brass.

I'll build you a heart that never rusts,

if you'll give me back the key to our atelier.

sarah, my dearest porcelain friend!,

I'm sorry for breaking your heart.