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Click hereI rearranged my room today.
The way it was bothered me.
I found a plastic diet coke bottle,
still half-way full of whiskey.
I was drawn back
to when we first made love,
if you could even call it that,
and I wonder if you could now.
I’m watching you as you are
beside me, with you eyes closed,
the almost effeminate lashes
drawn down over your eyes,
your erection receding,
and the condom falling off.
But I won’t let you move,
I want to trace your love handles
with my pen and sketch your
exhaustion with my words.
I watch you fall asleep
and crave a cigarette
that I know you wouldn’t
let me smoke if you knew.
The taste of tar
sickens your tongue
and makes you avoid
the touch of mine.
I wish that I could hold you,
and tell you that I love you,
instead you fall asleep
and I sit up long into the night
watching the bright green numbers
on the alarm, hoping the hours
pass by quickly
and you will move on.
I disagree with the previous post's advice about the advisability of softening the sharp descriptives, etc. To my mind, that comment betrays something of a lack of sensitivity to the edge that the whole poem has, even at its softest moments, leading up to the final line's "move on" wish. It's a beautiful, yearning piece of work, with its lyrical moments and carefully chosen details working hand in hand. I really liked your story, too, and really look forward to the sequel that the latter seems to promise.
I like this and have mentioned it on the New Poems thread on the Poetry Forum. It has such a gentle flow of remembrance that you might wish at sometime to rewrite some of it and replace the more sharp/realistic descriptives like the condom falling off, or the love handles, with softer images. Or, you could go just the other way and stick in some more reality bumps among the reminiscence. It is a very good poem for a first post.