The Contradiction of Your Fingers as Dishonesty Takes My Place.

The Contradiction of Your Fingers as Dishonesty Takes My Place.

A Poem by Jeanmarie Flaherty

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Broken...

egg shells and fingernails, there's nothing I can do to make this beautiful, and did I mention...


that we're running out of time, Dear?


There's not a sigh left that doesn't contradict itself, not a night where the memory of your skin...


doesn't visit me, but I suppose...


where I sat, breathing, waiting to heal, wasn't good enough for you, I suppose the room lacked light or the ability to speak and your voice got caught in the absence of curtains as you left me


bare.



The moon is mocking, she used to hold me when midnight fell, and you have settled for insanity...


my footsteps are buried in the shock of St. Augustine, the day that soaked me, my last real smile, and the teeth I


bared


for you.



These tears are cleaning me up, you know, little by little and my pieces still let light slip through, I can see you now, shadows dancing across walls with hands that shiver my spine, I can see you now...


you're bare


and I don't even know you.



Dishonesty is stubborn, she lives on your tongue, and while I wish for your kiss these days, she is refusing to leave, there's no room for love there, inside of your mouth, and I've captured sight of her vanity...


her mirrors reflect


you.



I'm deciding upon my imperfection, my only slipping breath, at least I'm honest in the things you hate about me, at least I've made love to sunlight and the audacity of the afternoon...


at least


I can take the pain.


One step farther, I told you, God, I let you know the severity of your mistakes


but your ears were clogged with insecurity and you saw me as the whisper of fear...


you saw me...


as I turned from you


but you never


listened


to me die.

 

 

 

 

© 2009 Jeanmarie Flaherty


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Reviews

The poetry has a uniqueness to it in that I feel part of me drifting away as I read it. I become very detached from everything around me including me. Of course we lie when we say I love you yet treat women with dishonesty. How can one love somebody and hurt them...Your writings are so very beautiful and so very painful to read I could never imagine how painful they might be to write or live out. Looking for that new poem, ya know?

Posted 12 Years Ago


''at least I've made love to sunlight and the audacity of the afternoon...'' exquisite line

Posted 12 Years Ago


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MIB
It's an incredible emotional read... I feel sorry for the person at the end, it kinda feels they die alone even though it looks like someone is there... great work :D

Posted 12 Years Ago


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JRB
emotional write, nice flow keep up the work

Posted 12 Years Ago


nice work on this poem...emotional, visual, flowing...a nice view into that relationship, lost ....just as the time we loose before we die...

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

It is the gathering of words like these that send me out trembling into midnight...out to the arms of the darkness where I can feel what is possible and return unbroken... sending my own prayers back to the page inspired. The Floridian woods have served you well. Amazing!



Posted 15 Years Ago


you own the art of heartbreaking prose....another incredible work.

Posted 15 Years Ago


Wow, this is amazing.
I love it.
Love the format.
Love the writing.
Amazing imagery.
Also, well-written.

Posted 15 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

So stunning, with emotion that is as deep as the ocean. Your words carry such feeling, imagery that provokes gripping insights and emotion. Beautiful and bittersweet... simply amazing...

Posted 15 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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385 Views
10 Reviews
Added on August 14, 2009
Last Updated on August 15, 2009

Author

Jeanmarie Flaherty
Jeanmarie Flaherty

The Gulf, FL



About
I am reality, I am art, I am every dream I've ever had and the corners of my childrens lips when they smile. I am tears and laughter, I am shoulders and knees, I am a writer, a photographer, a mother... more..

Writing