Lament for Blue Bedsheets.

Written May 2010.

Here in my city of sin, where I am Queen, you cannot reach me. Not here. Not now. Yet I'd do anything for bridges to fall between us, guiding the way that they did that fateful night underneath the cigarette smoke and the stars. When you were mine. When I was yours. When I was yours. And what happened to us darling? In my depths I have not changed. You changed. You evolved and forced me to emancipate myself from bondage that I never really wished to be free of. I can't adapt to you. No I can't. I was on my knees. I discarded dignity with a flick of a cigarette and begged. You could not accept.

You will not come back to me.

And it aches in every pore. It stings in every cell of skin, every cell of skin you used to Love.

The Stars hurt.
The Sun hurts.
Every second a limbo.

And do you know what hurts the most beloved? That I seem to care, and you don't. Because you have severed the ties. You have gotten away. You have left me standing in the gardens, seeking solace only in that we shall for a few moments more be within the same small radius. And do you know? Do you know that everything is pulling me down towards the earth? Not thinking to sleep, not daring to breathe. Refusing to contemplate the painful depths of my brain which you have declined to deliver me from. With one hand staying me from life and the sky and God and with the other pushing me away into the great unknown.  

My Love, why did you leave me here?

Nothing kills this. Nothing. You are cruel to have me so contorted and dead. The summer that I have so longed for you have taken from me. And now I hope the sky turns to ash and the world falls into a bottomless pit. And the heat. The heat it's mocking me. The daisy I kept in my bag, that you tried to put in my hair I daren't look at for lest it be withered. Like us.

We are withered and now I face the void.

Reviews

[E.V. Black]

You know, I don't usually read prose poetry (if this is considered that). Nor do I usually read something this long. (I'm lazy like that. xD ) But from the moment I started reading this, I found that I couldn't stop. Your words pulled me in and compelled me to read until the end. I feel sorry for the speaker in the poem.
Was this a real scenario? It makes me wonder. If it is, I hope that everything is resolved and the speaker has been able to move on beyond their love for whoever they were pining over.

[Bertie]

Such a poignant poem...There such a strong sense of voice and also of loss in this poem... It reminds me of a modern adaption of Tennyson's Marianne.. I want there to be more of it; it's the kind of work that gives you a cathartic release as you read it and when you finish.. The detais you've chosen to include are also perfectly pitched, the daisy the flick of the cigarette...it feels slightly film noir to me and I love it, thank you and well done ! :) x

[Brooke Nicole Plummer]

I really enjoy your style of writing. brava.

[Celeste21]

You killed those last few lines. The cigarettes you talk about in the first few lines seems as the man spoken about was someone who brought you come. There is a vast loneliness that creeps in from the beginning of this piece and never quite disappears. Where's my happy ending?

[Alessander]

I like the last line "
We are withered and now I face the void"

It reminds me of the saying 'what will you do when you stare into the abyss?' will one get consumed, or make a stand...

This seems like a vignette or even monologue. Nice prose-poem.