A mirage perhaps?
But why could I feel the stubble
covering your chin
roughly caress my face?
Clothes hit the ground quickly
as the warm night unfurled outside,
You kissed me first
(or did you?),
then drew four letters on my heart
L-U-S-T
and it started to develop
Kiss me some more,
Set those letters aflame
then...
"You don't want me - I've too much baggage"
I knew "You don't want me" is an interchangeable phrase
'I don't want you' would have been more accurate!
My baggage was obvious
(whispers from a blade)
because I came to you - for you -
wrapped in pink ribbons,
like the harvest of my memories
bound up in neat bales
(rotten at the core).
So the fire went out leaving it's charred remains
You don't regret it - but what about me?
I tried my best
yet I still wouldn't change it!
But the memory is bittersweet now.
and I think of you smiling sadly
like some teenage girl - visiting the tree
where she kissed her first crush.
She etches their names into the wood
never to be forgotten
(till the tree comes down)
because nothing is really permanent
and lust will die
in the face of the love I will one day find.
Author notes
It was great - at the time - but now it's just meh...
Actually this is one of many futile attempts to make that night for me what it was for him so it doesn't sting so much.
A contest entry
- Dragon Book Of Verse by Errant Panther.
490 points, ended May 27, 2008, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Very good expression of painful emotions, reads much like an actors audition monologue. well done.
-
harvest, rotten, stubble, etches, bitter, mirage, unfurled, charred, ground, first. from the poem "Burning The Stubble" by Jon Stallworthy.
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