Blanket

The sun sets.
I shiver.

The moon is reflected in my murky irises.
I blink away, saddened.

 

I remember fleetingly every time you have shared this bed.
I recall vividly every time you haven't.

 

Your eyes follow me with adoration before

They narrow in disgust.

Your eyes they speak volumes,

You yourself, don't understand how much.

 

When your naked form cuddles close to mine
This blanket, is whole.
All the threads so worn - be it from anger, distance or insecurity
Come together, good as new
 

In the morning we are so full of promise;
Each stitch shines so bright
It is only as you walk away from me, step back over my threshold, and I make the bed so ardently that
The holes begin to appear.

 

I sit on my bed sometimes and darn these holes
With love and trust.
I fix patches over the issues which have no solution
And resolve to tackle them another day,
(Knowing full well I never will.)
I only hope when the patches themselves are worn
I will have enough fabric...enough courage, to create more.
 

Sometimes I hold my blanket to me, desperately, unyieldingly
Longing to see more of what you think I am
And feel less of what I know.
You hold me up so high sometimes, I just want to fall.
Perhaps if I try to find the scent of your hair and calming presence
I will warm our love with this blanket, the same way I rely on your body to warm my heart.

Other times I lay on the sheets where your chestnut arms have snaked around me;
I sprawl out on your side, the right hand side in which you lay.
I close my eyes and try not to think of things
Which make my heart ache.
With every second I stop darning, the holes grow.

 

You plan your dreams,
You form opinions.
I sit in my empty room.
You work out,
You watch t.v,
I lay in gloom.
You seperate your likes and dislikes into piles,
You promise nothing, least of all personalities, will come between

Us.

 

I darn the holes which always seem to be made by me.

You give up reassuring.

 

You forget I have caressed each pattern so lovingly, so delicately
It could be made out of glass.
You do not understand how much energy I have given, carrying
This big blanket, which represents every single thing we have.
When thunder has rolled across the horizon, I have worried, placing the blanket about my knees.
When the lightning came, I smothered it - rather than let it be unprotected, rather than let it protect me.
Everytime the morning shines I glance at it, to check it has not wasted away.
 

Because the nights are my enemy
Flashbacks of my mistakes in each pane of glass
I whisper to the blanket, I apologize for accepting
The offer of a softer quilt,
A smaller one, a newer one,
Whole and uncomplicated.
You know, deep down, I deserve no quilt
Truly I do prefer my spoilt quilt.
Spoilt with time and apologies and growing trust and understanding
Stronger than any other.
 

You do need this quilt.
You will freeze in the cold.
Start sitting with me some nights, darning
Instead of using this blanket for its unimportant purpose -
A blanket, for warming only our bodies.
If you keep believing that is all it is used for,
It will be warming only your corpse.

 

For now it appears
My sowing kit seems to be my greatest friend.
 

Reviews

[Secondhand Tink]

I absolutely adore this poem! :O It's just so honest and well written and I agree with Jackie, you're longer poems are always the best it's like once you get the ball rolling you don't stop and it's just so perfect and easy to identify with and I love how you've personified the blanket.

Such a good poem hun.

lyl

[Spilled Her Guts in Cur..]

This might be my favourite poem by you. i'm not sure, but its definately up there. especially this:

Longing to see more of what you think I am
And feel less of what I know.
You hold me up so high sometimes, I just want to fall.

You are me sometimes. I swear. Your longer poems are always the better ones.