islington dreams

companion piece

a year later, the sky deepens
at pale windowpanes and my head spins.
i drank the wine,
saw it through to the end of my glass.
and i flung balance to the oncoming traffic,
as we giggled up the stairs
and clambered into pajamas.
hopefully remembering to remove the second skin
that now cloaks my face
and hides purple sleeplessness.
hides summer freckledness.
and lets me pretend i am someone else.
i am waiting for a conversation that leads nowhere,
for a friend who was sometimes there.
but still left me drowning in the cold,
when we pitched a tent, and their eyes smold-
ered at each-other and i knew the inevitable was about to happen.
but i let it happen.
as if i could help it happen.
but as their shy eyes became embrace,
into the soaked blankets i buried my streaming face.
did they know i cut my ankle and was screamed at for my vacant stare?
i don't think they knew.
i suppose they had to have been there.
love's labour served me well,
squeezed a few lines from me at three a.m.
still ashamed;
drawing a razor across my skin so fair,
the part of the arm that is above the elbow
but beneath the shoulder.
(what is that called?)
trying not to care.
depressed, and alcoholic,
you were glad you weren't me.
but then i asked myself; if you were so glad
why did you have to take
take take
everything from me?
if it was so distasteful to you,
my 'lesbianism and random drives'
that you had better things to worry about
than my sorry paintings and my broken heart.
it was broken.
but at least i had one.
it was a start.
i think that we knew,
she had enough heart for two.
that was fortunate for you.

i cannot say that i wish her well,
but then, when she is hurting...
i hurt sometimes too.
so perhaps i wish her well.
all the happiness the earth can possess,
even love at my expense.
all the love that words could express.
that is what i wish for her--
no less.

Reviews

[wolfshrew]

every phrase i thought,
"she is saying this so perfectly"
it was beautiful and breaking,
left my stability shaking.

[cartera]

If that's a dream and not memories, I'm Sigmund Freud.
I don't know how some of you folk put the words together in the way that you do.
Humbled.
Well done.
ATB
Alex.

[Una Xoto]

This a very good piece. I sunk my hands into & felt depth & meat & potatoes.
It had a heart beat & a pulse... whenever I read a piece of poetry that swim & pops I just can't help but clap my hands!

[Glenn Davis]

Very relatable piece to many I am sure. I like the way the piece flows simple and not to the point. If that makes sense..... I guess I mean it speaks very understandably while at the same time it doesn't get straight to the point and takes you on a journey as it builds up to the end.

[Ms. Gruye]

this did not feel dream like to me, but very real. I love the fact that you kept the first stanza long and fevered. it really drove home to me the point that there was no escaping your point of view,

Viva la

[Emily B]

with dreams like that, I'd sure hate to see the nightmares, stunning work

[Scene, not herd]

I wouldn't know how to go about reviewing this, it just seems like the poem tugs at my consciousness, and I draw the emotions from your words. Very powerfully written, reading this was an experience for me.

[Jessica Elaine Stevens ..]

This is beautiful. Poetical, lyrical and literal. I understand everything you say and you say it so well. That last ending stanza is absolutely lovely and speaks to everyone I should think.
Also, I liked how you include things that seem so mundane, like remembering to take off your make-up before you go to bed, and it just adds to the poem as a whole.