porcelain lovers
By a.lesser.thing
Tue, 09 Apr 2013
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5 comments
Her lips hang, an offer.
My fingertips, translucent,
daring. Do I touch?
These answers, we already know
yet we stand, poised, careful
for we've taken up the idea
that we are made of porcelain.
I wanted to love her, but
I became fearful that I would
do it wrong. She once said, "Any love
is not a wrong love," but I saw the crack
in the small of her back and thought differently.
The moon does not confine, and is not a cage.
Her smile paralyzes me, but my legs move
regardless. I pick up my knees, over and over again,
a process of no thought. I can avoid her eyes as
much as I can ignore the void that pulls me over
the sides of mountains.
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Comments
a beautiful poem - the last
Permalink Submitted by littleditty on
a beautiful poem - the last image, awesome. Well made.
(crystalball7000X says watch out for fruit..)
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ah fishin for shrimp scampi
Permalink Submitted by littleditty on
ah fishin for shrimp scampi for the family - nice. try this 8 Prawns poem :) http://www.abctales.com/story/littleditty/8-prawns
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The conversational style,
The conversational style, combined with such delicate language conveys relationship uncertainness perfectly. You convey it so well. It creates an atmosphere of one of those periods, post-argument, where everything hangs in the balance. That is my interpretation anyway, forgive me if I'm off your planet.
Have gone over and over these lines. Very special:
'She once said, "Any love
is not a wrong love," but I saw the crack
in the small of her back and thought differently.
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