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perfect when silent
my eyes scour her every atom
marveling at her molecular magnificence
I watch her moving
(unnecessary movements)
like bored air
squeezing in the smallest gaps
she undresses herself with ease
and dresses me in awe
she wants to tell me nothings; a routine
of how she believes it should be
I tell her words are like mortal rain and
her skin is eternal poetry
she mounts me like a loving whore
and destroys me like a bomb
I now drip down these deafened walls
and she soaks me back up for again
she's relentless in her activities;
hours compliment her flawless pigments
I'd be a fool to stop this art, but
I'm running low on guts
I'll never love her, never could
perhaps because my mother
never showed me what love was
I'll never tame perfection, or
forget how perfection tastes
I go to her often when all thoughts have sunk
I'll never remember her words
but her bones have grown, in the ridges of my skull
marveling at her molecular magnificence
I watch her moving
(unnecessary movements)
like bored air
squeezing in the smallest gaps
she undresses herself with ease
and dresses me in awe
she wants to tell me nothings; a routine
of how she believes it should be
I tell her words are like mortal rain and
her skin is eternal poetry
she mounts me like a loving whore
and destroys me like a bomb
I now drip down these deafened walls
and she soaks me back up for again
she's relentless in her activities;
hours compliment her flawless pigments
I'd be a fool to stop this art, but
I'm running low on guts
I'll never love her, never could
perhaps because my mother
never showed me what love was
I'll never tame perfection, or
forget how perfection tastes
I go to her often when all thoughts have sunk
I'll never remember her words
but her bones have grown, in the ridges of my skull
Published 14th May 2012
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likes 5
reading list entries 2
comments 7
reads 923
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
15th May 2012 3:57am
Particularly nice work, especially the second, third and fourth stanzas. It is a very "meaty" poem in it's images as well. Guts, bones, indentations and such. Good physical poem for a good physical relationship.
15th May 2012 4:17pm
Why thank you, Steve.
Sometimes it's good to spill out the sins of the flesh. I normally avoid such topics.
Once again thanks for your thoughts and praise!
Sometimes it's good to spill out the sins of the flesh. I normally avoid such topics.
Once again thanks for your thoughts and praise!
15th May 2012 12:49pm
i agree with what steve said earlier; i can't help but ponder on this 'meaty' poem belonging in the erotic section rather than the love poems.
15th May 2012 4:23pm
That's because it's more about someone I can't love, oph.
The 'meaty' aspect of it is purely a reason as to why. Hope that makes sense. :)
The 'meaty' aspect of it is purely a reason as to why. Hope that makes sense. :)
Anonymous
27th Jul 2012 4:03pm
This one feels cold to me, but there are some wonderful word choices all through it.
My fave though is your ending, which I feel could stand alone.
[I'll never remember her words
but her bones have grown, in the ridges of my skull]
My fave though is your ending, which I feel could stand alone.
[I'll never remember her words
but her bones have grown, in the ridges of my skull]
27th Jul 2012 4:20pm
Yeah it is kind of cold; less than skin deep. It's a shallow poem. I might steal some of the phrasing for a better poem one day. :)
You're probably right with the ending, but nobody will read this anymore.
You're probably right with the ending, but nobody will read this anymore.
Anonymous
27th Jul 2012 4:21pm
You never know. People stumble around here in the dark all the time :)
