I can barely breathe in the vacuum that you bring,
I can’t think thoughts through and I
certainly can’t say what I’m thinking [of you].
So I’m left gasping for air like I’m drowning in
this memory that I can’t let go of,
the one where ants are biting my legs
so you tell me to curl up higher onto the blanket
and I’m shivering because the dew is wet
and I’m cold so you spread your cloak over me
and just hold me,
hold me so close
under the night sky and
you fall asleep right there with your arms around me,
breathing into my hair
with my face pressed against your chest.
But
it’s just
a memory,
and so many things have changed since then
that I wonder who you are
sometimes, when I’m staring at the ceiling
when I can’t sleep at night.
Who does this love belong to?
But the last thing I saw of you was your back, and
you'll never hear what I want to say.
So I eventually fall asleep,
loving the feel of air in my lungs.
So... I just wanted to try this style out, to see if I could even do it. This was so difficult, really it was! But I liked writing it, so we'll see if I can try to mix it up every now and then.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
Search This Blog
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment