tugger
Member
This is a poem I posted on a thread in the General Chat area about our "Impressions of Ideal Intimacy." It was suggested that I post it in this thread. Anyway, it's about someone I was sure I'd found that intimacy with. Wrong...
she dumped me. Pieces of my heart scattered everywhere. A real mess. After months and months of smashing a tennis ball against a cement wall at the local park, I was able to write this poem. So anyway, without further ado here it is:
A MEMORY
I remember you in the morning,
The soft light from the window
Slanting across your body
Lying there. Your unkempt hair
Cascading along the pillow
And a tiny, fallen curl from your lash
Reposing gracefully on your cheek.
Your eyes still closed but no longer asleep
Your smile prepares to say
Something silly and astounding.
But I do not remember your words,
Only the low, pointed shadows
Created by your rising breasts
And the sticky sweet smells
Of the night before.
The rain falls today as I remember you.
My arms ache from all the caring.
And like you I do not sleep alone.
You have become a friendly name in old journals
Telling me softly, that sometimes regret
Is impossible to find.
-- tugger
she dumped me. Pieces of my heart scattered everywhere. A real mess. After months and months of smashing a tennis ball against a cement wall at the local park, I was able to write this poem. So anyway, without further ado here it is:
A MEMORY
I remember you in the morning,
The soft light from the window
Slanting across your body
Lying there. Your unkempt hair
Cascading along the pillow
And a tiny, fallen curl from your lash
Reposing gracefully on your cheek.
Your eyes still closed but no longer asleep
Your smile prepares to say
Something silly and astounding.
But I do not remember your words,
Only the low, pointed shadows
Created by your rising breasts
And the sticky sweet smells
Of the night before.
The rain falls today as I remember you.
My arms ache from all the caring.
And like you I do not sleep alone.
You have become a friendly name in old journals
Telling me softly, that sometimes regret
Is impossible to find.
-- tugger