Damaged

Damaged

A Poem by J.P. Bristow

















I sit. Breathing deeply. The bed smelling of perfume and skin. My brow clammy from sweat now cooled.  You lay fingertips away, thigh exposed ...a pale blue cotton sheet snaking its way up Titians ghost. I marvel. A fall breeze catches the corner of a timid sheer curtain enticing it into full sail. A new boldness permeating the air. Behind an unlocked door we enshrined ourselves in flesh.   You gave everything with deep swollen kisses and we made no apologies to lost days. The carcass of a phone lay entrailed, jack torn from wall-the first victim of irrational thought. 
You had been so angry. So broken.  So betrayed. Screaming at me, tears splashed with fury. I stood unrepentant. Grabbing at me, fingers digging deep into resigned arms your words thrashed. My silence incensed you. With shaking hands you held me possessed but I was unafraid. Heated palms traced pleadingly across my face and as your labored breath repeated against my neck you whispered “why?”
You never gave me the chance to answer but gathered me in your arms and waived away all comprehension.   You sought to imprint yourself upon my skin, upon my soul, trying to pound a path to my heart. I could not, I would not refuse you entrance to all within my control. Love. This love you give. You sought to erase the past and replace it with forever. There was an allure to this. I wished it gone the heaviness of a broken heart. With your head against my chest I dared to forget. But there lies a dull ache within. A reminder that your claim here is not the first. 
Youth promised many years ago before my book of revelations a sacrifice. And upon that alter all my firsts I gave the Archangel Michael to weigh. I waited hoping the scales might tip in my favour but who was I to try and settle account with an angel.  He did not fight for me or war for my heart he just left with no remorse leaving me lanced with the tree of life and neither distance nor time could shrink my belly now growing with indecision. It was then faith sought me out for a hand unseen tripped me and at the base of a strangers staircase all grace was expelled from my womb and his judgement clearly made.
It would be an easy choice to kill that time. I have tried to drown...to bleed....to bury the shadow of my heart but his ghost roots itself beyond hope. I had resigned myself to live with trace paper memories to hold my sanity.
But for you.
You demand- you need- you want all of me. I am poor liar this you know, I have seen you search my eyes and seeing me acknowledge my truths.  I do not know why you mire yourself here. You remain steadfast , unwilling to share my marrow with the architect of my damage.   
Yet here you lay. Even in sleep you reach for me. You the definition of love gather this wreckage and cherish it.
But as I look at you tears delineate my vision and it is clear that he will remain an uninvited guest, my heart stolen years ago.
I crawl upon your length and you move from memory swelling with love, surrender abandons what’s left of me within you and I am left with one thought.......will it be enough.

© 2011 J.P. Bristow



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If I had to delve in the lines of this --- prose...its speaks much about the unrestricted passion that is uninhabited...its in the moment of the affair...the romance in whatever state...one questions after the deed...is it what I wanted to do...or was it just fleeting...and is this enough...to make us bond...and not fall astray...that all remains to be answered...as you leave that to the reader to question...

Posted 3 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

One hell of an unfinished title darlin' And as usual you carried it through with elan.

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

this was soo good. I thought about the book Tagebuch einer Ehebrecherin or something - the hero of this boook, she always thought about her love making philosophically and it always was exceptional. what a wonderful poetess you are. missed u. thanks for steppin' by and leaving a review/comment.

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

wow!

Posted 8 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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13 Reviews
Added on October 19, 2009
Last Updated on November 21, 2011

Author

J.P. Bristow
J.P. Bristow

Canada



About
According to me..... Yes, its true....I am one of those people that laughs out loud during a movie. I am also guilty of chorus singing...you know those awful people that hum to the song and .. more..

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