Revision 1.2
I watch you sleeping,
nestled in the depression
of the bed that my body left
huddling for a warmth I no longer feel.
Has this space between us always been
a part of me? The moon leaches
light from my skin like smoke
rising from a fire; I settle
into the darkness of our small room.
The sallow light rests on you,
holds you motionless,
immutable in amber.
The slats of the blinds rattle
in the night breeze, and their shadows
cover you in bars. I feel the hair
on my arms bristle at the captivity.
~~
Very slight edits; additional edit 6/24: Tom's semicolon...thinking about the rest.
Revision
I watch you sleeping,
nestled in the depression
of the bed, that my body left,
in a lingering warmth I no longer feel.
Has this chill always been
a part of me? The moon leaches
light from my skin like smoke
rising from a fire, and I settle
into the darkness of our small room.
The sallow light rests on you,
holds you motionless,
immutable in amber.
The slats of the blinds rattle
in the night breeze, and their shadows
cover you in bars. I feel the hair
on my arms bristle at the captivity.
~~
Edit 1: LizzieP, Achebe, Kolemath: Made some changes from your feedback.
Original
I watch you while you sleep,
nestled into the depression
of the bed, that my body left,
a shared warmth I no longer feel.
Has this emptiness always been
a part of me? The moon leaches
the light from my skin like smoke
rising from a fire, and I settle
into the darkness of our small room.
The pale light rests on you,
holds you motionless,
like a photograph, a captured moment.
The slats of the blinds rattle
in the night breeze, and their shadows
cover you in bars. I feel the hair
on my arms bristle at the captivity.
~~
* A NaPM poem that I wanted to workshop.
I watch you sleeping,
nestled in the depression
of the bed that my body left
huddling for a warmth I no longer feel.
Has this space between us always been
a part of me? The moon leaches
light from my skin like smoke
rising from a fire; I settle
into the darkness of our small room.
The sallow light rests on you,
holds you motionless,
immutable in amber.
The slats of the blinds rattle
in the night breeze, and their shadows
cover you in bars. I feel the hair
on my arms bristle at the captivity.
~~
Very slight edits; additional edit 6/24: Tom's semicolon...thinking about the rest.
Revision
I watch you sleeping,
nestled in the depression
of the bed, that my body left,
in a lingering warmth I no longer feel.
Has this chill always been
a part of me? The moon leaches
light from my skin like smoke
rising from a fire, and I settle
into the darkness of our small room.
The sallow light rests on you,
holds you motionless,
immutable in amber.
The slats of the blinds rattle
in the night breeze, and their shadows
cover you in bars. I feel the hair
on my arms bristle at the captivity.
~~
Edit 1: LizzieP, Achebe, Kolemath: Made some changes from your feedback.
Original
I watch you while you sleep,
nestled into the depression
of the bed, that my body left,
a shared warmth I no longer feel.
Has this emptiness always been
a part of me? The moon leaches
the light from my skin like smoke
rising from a fire, and I settle
into the darkness of our small room.
The pale light rests on you,
holds you motionless,
like a photograph, a captured moment.
The slats of the blinds rattle
in the night breeze, and their shadows
cover you in bars. I feel the hair
on my arms bristle at the captivity.
~~
* A NaPM poem that I wanted to workshop.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson