the soundscapes that flowed from your lips
sticky, sultry, sweet
are nothing to the tapestries woven in my mind
the embodiment of perfection you never were
has crumbled before my very eyes
if only, my girlfriends say
smiles wedging cracks in indolent faces
if only
and i hate that i can't understand
what magic gesture, what zealous sin,
what cruel happenstance
tore you from my grasp?
your skin sticks under my fingernails...
yet the blood on my tongue is mine,
mine alone, salty and sickening
the perfect counterpoint to tears
perhaps perfection is attainable after all
A contest entry
- here I dreamt I was an architect. by etoile.
2825 points, ended August 20, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
what do you think?
Comments
-
I really like the ending, it's a very strong way to tie up this poem. the imagery is raw and dark as well, which I like.
goodluck and thanks for entering
Adding your comment:
