05-14-2011, 04:05 PM
I know this is meant to be one poem, but honestly I think it works splendidly as two independent pieces (or rather, I struggled to find the salient connection between the two?) Nevertheless, it's wonderful
(05-14-2011, 03:49 PM)jadielue Wrote: "It was meant to be a mad romanceThanks for this.
from the very start, love"
Nightmirrors
Like the Great Gatsby, he plunged, low Great, bold opening, I have a thing for them
beneath her fabrics, too high for thought,
and far too dark and sick for excuses.
He poured himself empty where her affixed
womb lie(s). He had his freedom, and she,
her PTSD.
I'm not quite sure what became of them
that night, at the end, when the curtains
waved goodbye and the custodian mopped
up the blood. nicely disturbing.
Perhaps she fell asleep as he rolled off and
raped her dresser drawer. But maybe
they both lapsed into that place together,
that so strange and elusive place where unknown
people are known like books, like sonnets,
like lovers.
He cracked his neck and sighed, topping off
the barrage of her deja vu with a whistled
tune: "The End Of the World" by Skeeter
Davis. wow. chillingly, expertly used.
A familiar quirk all too engraven in her
mind.
But he's a stranger. Right?
Boys Will Be Boys
Just back from the sea-port and revving up
just like any other Navy boy fresh off the slab.
He never thought he'd miss the stagnant
crystallized air of the sea, but he did.
"I need a smoke." This entire thing is succint and perfect
PS. If you can, try your hand at giving some of the others a bit of feedback. If you already have, thanks, can you do some more?

