Pieces

 

Tonight I find the moments between us

are northern winds scattering dust

across rain starved fields, and I can almost

taste the water beneath the soil, my mouth

longing to be quenched of its growing thirst.

 

I eye you suspiciously, watching your long fingers

wrapped lightly around the crystal stem

of a glass filled with overpriced Merlot,

and I can’t help but remember the way they felt

walking lightly across my wanting skin

when our togetherness was still new,

 

and even when you look at me,

your large eyes heavy-lidded and safe,

I watch as you see me in pieces,

 

a round face, a delicate collarbone,

a full chest curving toward a narrow waist,

fingertips gently drumming bare thighs,

 

and I try to remember the last time

that you saw the whole of me,

the last time that you kissed my lips

with those perfect hands twisted in my hair,

and drank of my completeness. 

Reviews

[KUFU]

OKAY. The word for today is: SOMBER. Anima, yer gona run me outa here girl. It's Saturday, and I ain't readin you no more today...NO, I will be brave!
Wonderful; though somber, execution of mood and imagery with this piece. You wrote:

"I eye you suspiciously, watching your long fingers
wrapped lightly around the crystal stem
of a glass filled with overpriced Merlot,
and I can't help but remember the way they felt
walking lightly across my wanting skin
when our togetherness was still new,"

...this stanza sums this poem up for me. I love the way you likened the delicate curve of a fine crystal wineglass to (what I can only imagine) is the svelte curvature of your own form. This stanza makes the reader resent your unrequited lover and question his callousness. Though you do not intimate why your lover has these feelings; now grown cold, for you. Hmmm, this pulls the reader into speculation of motives, ulterior or otherwise.
A very real poem in it's sentiments. Nothing ethereal here. Just the very palpable sense of longing, tinged with a bit of regret.

[Twilight]

A thoughtfully written and romantic poem, which reads as if the writer is expressing her true feelings.

Evidently, the "pieces", are a metaphor for the fragmented state of the woman's emotions. Indeed, her love has been shattered, so to speak.

In the final verse, a certain degree of nostalgia for the woman's lost love is expressed. And this is told quite eloquently.

A good poem!

[Adrian K. Smith]

By touching upon the world around us, you allow the piece to touch upon more of us. For those that might only have the slightest idea of what the emotions may be like, by bringing in that certain more - you will be able to give them a reference point for the emotion. So much of knowledge, thought, and emotion comes along the lines of gists and points of reference. This piece does an excellent job of this, both for those that may not have that direct feeling - that sad and odd void, that haunting feeling of such bitter hollow within - so that they can perhaps catch but a glimpse of the tragedy that forms within the mind's eye at the lines presented here. We are complete people, and we deserve to be loved and seen as such - rather than as mere labels applied to those various parts that could never add up to given even the slightest idea of just who we are....

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

On wow... you certainly showed just how one can take for granite the person they love after time has passed... though you write of love drifting apart you added a bit of passion and sensuality into it... how great it is to see you writing again

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I never really noticed before, but you usually start a poem with imagery of something natural, sometimes using nature to introduce the mood and setting of the poem in its entirety, and I think besides being effective that its what I like the most about your poems. A cold northern wind brushing over a parched bit of land devoid of rainfall, longing is definitely apparent from the get-go, and the rest of the poem seems to reflect that really well. A return to what used to be, remembering how it used to feel when you were given what you gave in return. Perhaps a little something more than that, perhaps trying to remember how to make it so you could give what you used to give, but without recieving, it's just a memory that is being blocked from being recalled.
It's very well-written.

"and I can almost
taste the water beneath the soil" - this troubled me while reading, for some reason that's not apparent to me.