I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.
Charles wrote this as part of his piece, ‘an almost made up poem’. You can find the entire poem at the link below, as well as some detailed thoughts by a fellow wordpress blogger. I can remember many parts of the poem without looking, but this line has always been the most moving, the best remembered. This, and the ending. And then there is the idea of the poem itself, written to her after her death. Written TO her, not just a poetic ode written as an afterthought to fill an empty page.
Love does not die, had it been truly love. It stays, even if we’d not been able to live our days within its comforting embrace.
https://soundarya.wordpress.com/2012/11/07/an-al%C2%ADmost-made-up-po%C2%ADem-by-charles-bukowski/
Thanks for your words and sharing the other post.
You’re welcome. I might not see everything seen in the other post, or see it in the same way, but poetry is like that. Everything is like that, really. I hope the warm weather has made it up your way.
Yes. 15 degrees! You can do the math 😉
Lol. No, I can’t. Put a sweater and scarf on. Sounds f’ing cold! 😉
🙂