simon, still


Here, in places
You are here,
On this patch of grass,
The edge of the bed.
Stopped dead
As a photograph,
Your face here
In this shower door.
In this bedroom mirror.
Where you knelt at my feet,
Where your tongue burned
With mine, and here,
Where your cock hardened
Inside me.
Here, in places
You are here,
In the coffer that is my heart,
The patterns your hands made
On the clean white sheet.
And here, on my skin
Where my muscles ache,
Your hand grabs me, even still.
Since you've left
And the weeks dragged themselves
Across my living room floor,
You are here, with me,
And I am unchanged.
I am the same man
You could not love
And you are here with me,
With a smile I would shatter
Or an eye I would gouge
If not for your arms
Wrapped around me, still.

Poetry by halfjack
Read 1005 times
Written on 2012-04-17 at 02:55

Tags Love  Gay  Loss 

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Well done, halfjack. This is a well-written poem.

jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
Some people never or cannot leave.
They hold our hearts.

This is powerful and sensitive and aching, just what a poem of remembrance and longing, and perhaps love, should be. Well done, halfjack, very well done.