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Nine Lines Poetry #1
First Attempt : Nine
I worshipped you, in ways only converted into bruises,
in ways only raised on tongues while not thinking
and even now, in humility and calm
the aching exists as if fingers at skin, as if eyes touched eyes.
In this delectable dim-light,
daphne-scent drifting upon warm candle oil,
you drip in from doorframe to bed post and stop,
as an man, unafraid and determined.
I allow you in, pale skin, pink lips, imperfections and green
eyes meet your darkness enveloping in silence
where touches are maps and the maps are repeated
and we stumble, out, upon a torn page
where we've lived separate lives and learned
parted
we slip inside each other as mirrors of the dead
and the moment melts to the ether of candle oil and dusk and never was,
eyes glide alone along crisp, white paper,
fingers stretch along
a desk, over-used,
mind treads the emptiness
in mulled over-quiet
and across a moment I catch a glimpse,
a curled smile upon a mirror
and mime what I'd say, what I'd promise, what I'd share
and you are the only one who knew me
as I was when trapped as a caged hen,
battered, beaten by condition and fear.
I worshipped you, in ways only converted into bruises,
in ways only raised on tongues while not thinking
and even now, in humility and calm
the aching exists as if fingers at skin, as if eyes touched eyes.
In this delectable dim-light,
daphne-scent drifting upon warm candle oil,
you drip in from doorframe to bed post and stop,
as an man, unafraid and determined.
I allow you in, pale skin, pink lips, imperfections and green
eyes meet your darkness enveloping in silence
where touches are maps and the maps are repeated
and we stumble, out, upon a torn page
where we've lived separate lives and learned
parted
we slip inside each other as mirrors of the dead
and the moment melts to the ether of candle oil and dusk and never was,
eyes glide alone along crisp, white paper,
fingers stretch along
a desk, over-used,
mind treads the emptiness
in mulled over-quiet
and across a moment I catch a glimpse,
a curled smile upon a mirror
and mime what I'd say, what I'd promise, what I'd share
and you are the only one who knew me
as I was when trapped as a caged hen,
battered, beaten by condition and fear.
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