N5 Near Home

This sleepless, lilac-bruised sky -
Limoncello light
      and a mess of clouds.
Shards and fluff.
In that quiet, day-over, almost-dark,
      I'm thinking of you.
Of a different night, heavy curtains,
Yellowed streetlight on drowsy love.
      I raise my finger to trace the violet shadows
Softening your tired eyes.
Plum skin, lips, you,
      Only you. No taste or senses,
Just a film that I play
In the back of my mind.

Reviews

[Butch Decatoria]

Wow, outstanding... Write more...

[Jay Chapel]

Returning the favour: it is clear you have a poet's sensibility and sense of words, yet the 2 poems seem still too attached to you and not fully available to the reader.
But I look forward to further poems.

[Maria Ioannou]

What could make it more available to the reader, Jay?

[Jay Chapel]

There is a personally-centred quality to the poem, a tangible sense of a strong memory. This is its strength as well, but its weakness is the readers feeling they are intruding upon a memory now played out in words, but still living, still warm to the writer.
I am new here and do not perhaps know the appropriate forms, so please forgive me if I have overstepped the mark.

[Maria Ioannou]

Honestly, you haven't. It's hard to read your own writing with any detachment and without your mind's imagery etc. to take it along. It's interesting to hear it from you.

[Jay Chapel]

Perhaps you'd like to critique the second verse of my poem - or any of the others - knowing I'd prefer criticism to mild approbation?