literature

Nightsong

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carperawr's avatar
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Literature Text

I can't help but see your eyes when I look at hers
and sometimes when she touches me I feel your hands again

She is not you—she does not hold curiosity in her glance
She cannot spark wonder in a jaded heart

But fire burns the wake of her caress
Fingers branding where they land
on skin that has not yet shed your mark

We sat one day—she and I, under a blanket soft as her skin
while Orion led Taurus across the canvas of the sky
we sat—whispering the nightsong to each other

Later on I thought of you—how we would sit
on the grass—legs tangled, dark hair flowing
into light—and listen to that same nightsong

I feel your eyes in hers, hear your pulse course through her veins
I see your song find my ears again

She is more than you and me,  more than we could have been
She will not wait for you to let me go
Written as an assignment for creative writing, the prompt was "To ______". We had to write a poem to someone we were once close to that we haven't seen in 2 or more years. I'll wager at least a couple of you know exactly who this is to, and who it's about. But it is pretty bullshitted too. I like it, sorta. It needs something, but I don't know what.
© 2008 - 2024 carperawr
Comments3
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SadistAngel413's avatar
I like this one. It probably helps that I know who it's about and that I'm not retarted enough to think it's to your mother or grandmother (or was that a different one that your class got confused about?) Any who, it's good. I like.