The Most Ideal of ShapesA Poem by Rhys Jacobs
Take me to your bed
but don't hesitate to pull back the skin between your sheets and let me know that I'm the last one. So lovingly nestled between the light filtering through your blinds. But far and away from the ideal, I know you are lying away in a place where the streets are ablaze, the buildings soar and the sky is a portrait of the ocean. And when I step inside, the world becomes a mirror of crashing waves. I fall with your tides and wash out to sea. Heavy like cotton, yet forever yielding. Green grass burnt back to black like those lungs I felt rising and falling with the tides. Can teeth be cut on silence? When all your breathes pervade my dreams, I rise without exhaling. Is that your tongue I feel in my cheek? I know I am living, I believe in loving. And I am building a home for you in my broken heart. Though tattered and bruised, you will always be welcome to make it your own. But again, the skin gives pause and I wonder "Is it worth it to care, to let her inside, to weather such storms in our unending sickness?" But I know you've been here for a year and I'm not content to let you stay without at least a kiss. Let's not live here in silence but cut our teeth on each other. I promise your scars will match mine. So let's sow our hearts together to weather this storm. When the tides come home, I promise we'll make a bed on the shore, find rest here forever with our hearts sown together in the most ideal of shapes. © 2013 Rhys Jacobs |
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Added on August 31, 2013 Last Updated on August 31, 2013 AuthorRhys JacobsCape Town, South AfricaAboutI'm in a burning house and I'm taking you all with me. Pull up a chair and pour yourself a stiff drink. more..Writing
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