Here's the poem I promised a few posts back... sorry for the delay.
The Smooth of Your Exposure
She said...
" I've got this picture of myself
and I think I want you to have it."
as we stood outside her room.
"My eyes are half closed (or open), and I've got this dumb grin...
but I want you to know this side of me....
So I can feel worth a thousand one words."
...and like I would know how to start...
I parted my lips and a laugh rolled off my tongue.
My eyes searched the room like a bullet in ricochet...
and found no target to drown in.
(So shoot me.)
So I placed her hair back where she had intended a couple of hours ago.
(before I arrived and made a mess of things.)
and softly kissed her brow.
Her eyes left mine and plunged to the ground,
but softly retraced their steps.
I shrugged my shoulders, shook my head yes, then glance at the glossy shape in her hand.
but she threw her grip behind her back...
"Not right now. I'm gonna slide it in your coat's breast pocket.
At least then I will know I got close."
Is vision always this terrifying?
Is make-up really that good of a liar?
Can we ever believe in our own sense of love?
I promise...
I swear...
I'd die just to...
"NO PEEKING!"
That's the quickest way to killing this...
So she grabbed my hand
and led me back down some stairs that I don't remember climbing.
(and I'm surprised I'm drawing a blank. Cause these stairs were steep...
and I never forget heights.)
And as we walked...
each of the steps in their education of the thousands fo steps they have felt,
creaked with a scream that beckoned my ears:
"She steps softly now, and with a self-convinced confidence,
but just wait til the lights go out."
...Cause man...that's when we all fall down.
Tired of seeing the back of her head,
I started racing her down her home flight.
I was quick,
But she was quicker,
All I wanted was a tie.
Accepting my defeat.................
I tried to say I'm sorry.
"Let's never run that fast again okay?"
Hurt by my competitive nature, she looked away.
So we stood in silence; felt like now we could see it all coming.
Until our line of vision blurred with the invisible.
She finally turned and looked at me and tried to say the words...
...But she knew better...
Walking to my car I searched my pockets for my keys.
Halfway through the right-hand side I remembered,
"Oh yeah. They're in your jeans."
But that's when I felt the smooth, the shine, the innocence of your exposure.
Your awkward little picture placed in a contradicting place.
Good Providence
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3 comments:
Your words in each of your poems touch something deep in my soul! What is your inspiration? who is Peyton? Is there another play you see yourself playing a specific role in at this point? Please continue to post your work, the imagery is captivating.
thank you for the compliment on the poems. believe it or not, that means more to me than the play thing. this is my passion. my inspiration is hindsight into heartache. this stuff all happened to me but now i just see it all a little clearer and have hopefully learned a few things in regards of love and how to love another. Peyton is up to this point in my life the only girl I have ever loved. She has been my muse for some time now. I don't regret her one bit for what we had. To answer the question of whether I see myself playing a specific role, ummm, I don't usually look that far ahead in life and I'm still pretty sad that Fiddler is over so, we'll just say that we'll wait and see cause I actually haven't been thrilled in the beginning of either of the past two productions at provy about doing the shows we did so... I'm completely open to whatever comes.
sounds like she did a number on you! your poems sound like this is still pretty raw--Some girls can be very deceptive and selfcentered,sounds like you found one right off. words of advice?
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