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she burns bridges with space she calls her own
by Vere Mantratriadit's not a cold night
nor has it been
for what seems like
decades, somehow frozen
in eternal summer and
windless standstill
but it is not the heat
that beckons the
sweat to birth from
my skin and I wish
that it were your
breath mixing with the
humidity that looms
over my eyelids but
no, pores cry for
as many reasons as my
eyes and this instance
is a remembrance
stomped into my very
flesh that I've willed
away for its constant
betrayal for I do not
what I can not and more
than that I feel your
eyes so far away piercing
through as though my
helplessness were
bitter force to break
you but I can not
take this heat simply
because your eyes are
fixed on promises made
to someone I do not
know nor would care to
remember when we
held a promise too?
now I feel that
I was in the wind
and never knew it
10/26/2006 Posted on 10/26/2006
Copyright © 2024 Vere Mantratriad
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Heide McAlister-Bates on 10/28/06 at 01:24 PM Wow. This is ace, Vere. It pulls the reader through with the lack of punctuation and leaves one, after finishing, as breathless as being in the wind that you write of. Impressive write. |
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