Your glacier-blue eyes were oddly warm and
Soft
As you painted keen welts down my spine and across my pelvis,
Your lips marking the supple parts of me so they matched
The fingerprint-bruises blooming like constellations across clavicles and scapulas and ribs.
Your breath was oddly warm and
Heavy
As it skittered across my skin and sent my heart skipping and stuttering.














Comments
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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Breathe in the Night's Fire and Dance to Rhythms of Broken Poetry...
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I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow
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I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow
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Breathe in the Night's Fire and Dance to Rhythms of Broken Poetry...
I really like this.
- S.H.
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Never underestimate the power of a bruised sky.
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I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow
This poem is suggestive of a relationship that is both passionate and destructive - this feeling is especially enhanced by the last line, where the stuttering heart may be interpreted as either sexual excitement or fear of more abuse, or a curious mixture of both. It seems to me that you captured the link between violence and eroticism in this poem.
Well done, I like this poem very much
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"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
J. Keats
Also, I like your Keats quote, even though I don't agree with his sentiment.
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I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow
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