a crowd of one

a crowd of one 

 

crooked springs

the bed wore thin

 

embrace

couldn't hold it up to specs

 

a comfort no more

too much space

 

the sheet written upon

with lonely pen

 

a body writhes in singular pain

the couch calls like a studio apartment

 

maybe there, I can paint

the model who only exists 

 

in my past.

 

 

erin-cilberto

5/13/24

Reviews

[John]

Poignancy without self-pity. Wit in a truncated pen. And wittily, the pairs of lines suggest a couple, while the last line is on its own, abandoned, referring to a past but bringing a present sharply into focus. The crowd of one contains a multitude and is a necessary condition for artistic production.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your insightful review, John,
j.

[Alisa Js]

This one about the memories of what once was can absolutely cause a heartache when all you have are the memories and nothing more. Thanks for sharing your talent out here with us.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you very much for your kind words, Alisa,
j.

[Poetic Beauty]

Sleeping alone when you aren’t use to it is torture and even when you are use to it sometimes it’s simply blows. Also if the bed isn’t comfortable it makes it worse and throw in a pinch of being a s**t sleeper and well this is the perfect tornado for tossing around restlessly and not sleeping much but there is always the pen and paper at hand

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your words, P.B.
j.

[Poetic Beauty]

You are welcome

[D]

"the sheet written upon
with lonely pen"

Loved this line. No one can put thoughts into words the way you do. Simply, easily and so effectively. How painful all the extra space begins to feel! And your conclusion is awesome. A master stroke.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind review, Divya,
j.

[nadia dmitri]

Such an interesting description. I am always impressed when writers can take so much from such a simple scene. Amazing work :))

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, nadia,
j.