Your particular brand of bad habit. The light that you left behind. The breath that made the voice you loved only, in reverse. And butter for the skin spiced with hazel and amber
And lo, I've summoned the smell of you. In my alembic, I've made the taste of you. Under moonlight, I've called forth a ghost to sit at my mind's rear door. Just sitting. Still smoking. Already thinking of things you'll never tell me.
Perhaps you were thinking then of how best to leave me now? Perhaps you've decided its best just to fade away? Like smoke in the air. Like tastes left exposed. Like ghosts. Like...you.
This, to me, evokes the spirit of the Leonard Cohen's "Alexandra Leaving":
Suddenly, the night has grown colder
The God of Love, preparing to depart
Alexandra hoisted on his shoulder
They slip between the sentries of the heart"
We've all been in relationships where the love has gone, and only the physical relationship remains. We try and try to pretend it is not happening, that we imagined it. Looking back, we always come to that image of the time we first realized something was wrong, that love had slipped past our sentries meant to keep it in. Something as simple as the way our partner holds a cigarette on a normal day while sitting with us on the steps, perhaps.
The breath that made the voice you loved
only, in reverse.
That line was so intriguing. I just love this poem. Enamored by it really...your writing is so lean, but says so much. I keep thinking you can do without the last stanza altogether, the first two are so strong....the sense of loss/abandonment already felt. And I really like the 'things you'll never tell me' line as an ending. But in any case...this is beautiful.
You always begin with great "hooks" - tho in poetry they tend to be more sincere inpiration points rather than manipulative gimmicks like in prose. You had some very strong lines, like always. 'under moonlight, I've called forth ghosts/to sit at my mind's rear door'. And the part with the butter, hazel and amber gave the piece a more exotic tactile tone. I only really stumbled in two parts, and this may just be my thick headedness lol
The breath that mad the voice you loved, but only in reverse
I have NO idea what that is! The voice s/he hated that unmade the breath? don't know. It's like in Seinfeld when they're arguing that Superman would be black and live underwater in the Bizarro world lol And later 'like ghosts' seems unecassary because you already made that point, but then again u also used the smoking motif again, so maybe this repetiion is to reinforce the theme. But I I agree with the structure at the end. It builds towards the last emotive line of "like you", maybe try to find other fleeting phenomenon besides ghosts antd smoke? just a thought. Anyhow, that's just nnit-picky stuff, the poem really is intriguing
This, to me, evokes the spirit of the Leonard Cohen's "Alexandra Leaving":
Suddenly, the night has grown colder
The God of Love, preparing to depart
Alexandra hoisted on his shoulder
They slip between the sentries of the heart"
We've all been in relationships where the love has gone, and only the physical relationship remains. We try and try to pretend it is not happening, that we imagined it. Looking back, we always come to that image of the time we first realized something was wrong, that love had slipped past our sentries meant to keep it in. Something as simple as the way our partner holds a cigarette on a normal day while sitting with us on the steps, perhaps.