You’re lying in bed
half-naked next to your
lover, counting the
beads of sweat collecting
on her chest.
The heat should make you
still, but after a mutual
look and a smile, you
move away from stillness
and into lovemaking.
The mix of
skin, sweat, and sheets
make the slow movement
of the digital clock on the
dresser disappear.
But as you open
your eyes to take in
another view of her, you
find yourself alone,
another dream
that was too painfully real.
The mix of
skin, sweat, and sheets
are not of love, but of
a constant tossing
and turning in your bed,
unable to sleep, awakening
to something unpleasant;
mind and body both miserable
on a hot summer night.
8 comments:
hmmm...nice slowly progressing sensuality in this...and then the waking alone..sad...
Clever, very clever, Vernon. Love the poems use of quintain stanzas. The diction works well. You keep the lines light like the reference made to the slow passing time signified by the digital clock. The piece reads sensually in a light way too, never addressing descriptively the act of lovemaking. You leave that to our imagination. Perfect man, perfect.
very good Vernon. hot dreams on hot nights of lost loves. Well done.
ugh man....hard...you build us up and leave us empty or maybe its you or whoever....but still i want to close my eyes again and see if she comes back...smiles...
Very strong and real images in this--been there, and you really bring it to life...sometimes you just don't want to wake up.
There is something too painfully real about this, Vernon ... which means, you've done your job well. An exquisite poem.
Waking up alone...sad..lovely write.
...ummm...sensuous...mildly chilling...weird smile...damp sheets!
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