Addiction Stained Fingers and the Truth Behind My Clumsy Lips.

 

He is nicotine and alcohol

he stains my skin with addictions, my lips are inebriated with his kiss

and I falter with words as they stumble, as breath slides dangerously towards the end.

I follow his everything with eyes that burn with the rest I lost knowing him, he undresses me with a smile as I turn sideways to notice Sunday's teeth, I realize my hair has established me in the months it took to

uncurl

when I became nothing but December and the

mother

of his child.

I hear the secrets our thighs share, when they speak, when they kiss, and skin holds back nothing when mouths are open and his hands whisper forever to the base of my spine, when his palms caress my insecurities and I become uncaged and welcome...

as he becomes...

mine.

There are dreams that women have, I have written every single one, I have numbered them and survived their surrealism, I have bound my hands and offered my fingers to the shadows that lace around hallways at night, but time has ignored me, noticing my nicotine-stained fingers and stubborn-drunk lips...

as my hair offers memories, proclamations of December and the truth that exists behind

the skin

that made me

the mother of his child.

Reviews

[A.J. Smith]

Oh my goodness, Jeanmarie, you are brilliant. This is another poem to revisit often, for there is so much to glean. This is sensual, wistful...just a wonderful read. I echo Kelly's sentiments below. So nice to read fresh new writing from you...yea!

[KGV]

Wow, that was just..enthralling.

[Lalli]

The fateful night in december was captured brilliantly!

its a powerful poem.. my attention was grabbed from the beginning.
The battle of addiction, a topic that holds much identifiablity for many

much love n respect

-Lalli

[Hedra Helix]

geez that's glorious. sensual sad joyful real true and worded like a woman. awesome.

[An owl on the moon]

Such a startling, haunting beauty with your words laced so delicately on the page. Just love each line, reading over and over, fused with such grace. Amazing!

[Kara Emily Krantz]

speechless, as always. and i'm glad to see that others seem to appreciate you as much as i do. as much as they should.

i bow and kiss your feet. you are one of my inspirations... you inspire me to write, to move, to breathe the truth.

iadoreyou

[C. M. Miller]

WONDERFUL comments from the other poets! Nice and uncluttered metaphors that go right to the heart.
"palms caress my insecurities " is a wonderfully original line, qutie descriptive and dead-on true. Thighs sharing secrets . . . simply "simple" to read but more than layered in its subtext.

"Poetry" is this poem, indeed it is.

[Lorraine Pearson]

This piece is beautiful...its telling, and yet it has such dignity to it. I really enjoyed the read, and felt like I was a part of something incredibly private. Nice one!
~Lorraiyne

[Kelly Scheppers]

The repetition of the line, "the mother of his child" made this pop for me!

"When his palms caress my insecurities, and I become uncaged and welcomed, as he becomes mine..."
What absolution!

More, more, more!

[Forest Green]

Indescribable...this might be the most amazing poem I have ever had the privilege to read. Disturbing, dark touch of sensuality, expressed in words that have never been neighbors before. Thoroughly enriching, sadness crossed and braced by tenderness in its most aggressive form.

I will keep this one and hold it as a benchmark for Poetry. The biographical undertones are all that keep me from calling this all-encompassing.

Thank you for your work.

Daniel