deepundergroundpoetry.com

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.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
Author's Note
If anyone is interested I tried a technique written in a poetry book, if you'd like to give a go will add below. X
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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