Letters From The Sea

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Images of lost love

Submitted: December 06, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 05, 2015



Each kiss was morphine injected into my anatomy.
I found it strange, as I had read everywhere of the rush one feels
when you touch each other as we did. We were scraps of paper on the pavement,
and ripped up train tickets to nowhere. Every time our eyes sank into one another,
I pulled over my head the blanket of your body, with limbs curled and arched like
the branches of winter's hands. I wanted to descend into every piece of you, into everything
I wanted us to be.
We never held hands, or even touched in public. You knew I never cared about displays, celebrations
or anniversaries. I couldn't stand to nail a calender to our heart, or for our
passion to be measured by days and months. I knew the tenderness of our tissue-like
emotion, and how easily crumpled we both became. It was as if each time I exhaled,
you breathed in the essence of what I was, and it went back and forth, just like that.
You made a house of glass under my eye, because you said that I looked nice when I was tired
and the pace of my blinking grew slower, until I rested my head upon yours. You said I was the
image of Persephone after the seeds when I was asleep, and after our restless nights of weakness
when we gave in to our human desire and sin, you said I was a sky after a storm.
We promised to run away, start afresh in Copenhagen, Malmo, Zurich or Arendal. We yearned for names
we didn't have and adventures we could feel under our feet.

I never asked why you left, I guess I already knew, 
because I still get postcards with the stamps that we dreamt of together.

© Copyright 2020 AlanaLouiseMcDermott. All rights reserved.

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