What did we do
to find ourselves here?
Our skin cold
and numb with
desperate restraint,
but lightly touching and
pushing, among freezing
cold cushions.
We're drowsy from wine
and you doze on one side -
building suspense -
as you mumble
in my ear - cracking jokes
at my expense.
Every exhale is a
tired laugh, and we're
suddenly so close
and warm,
with every breath
absorbed.
All sleep is broken
as our bodies press,
full length -
shoulder blades to breast.
This is not sex
but we're locked
with your toes
to my instep.
We sink together
and slowly bite back
the chill:
The hard black frost
that only this can heal.
And everything we've ever
been taught to be -
wrong or right is
forgotten
in our grand passion as we
imagine
tomorrow's fight.
Where did we spend
last night?
How could we
answer that?
This place is still
seeping through the touches -
continuous creation -
but firmly in
our clutches.
You turn and hold me
tightly, the strength
of our bodies
set. The only
movement: The fighting
in our
chests.
And slowly we sleep.
And all
intervening thoughts are
deleted
from this place -
All I know is the feel
of your secure, firm, safe embrace.
I wrote this poem after reading 'A Marriage in the Dolomites' by D. Nurkse, which you can read here:
It made me think about love in a pretentious and soppy kind of way, hence the soppy, pretentiousness of what I've just written. It sort of seemed like a straight forward love poem, but in the end, I thought it said something very profound about consciousness - that amidst great happiness you can resent each other. I read it thinking that they were happy with each other, but they resented each other because they were excluded from alternative happiness.
That's what my poem is about, but with a happier tone. Although they are trying not to be in love "desperate restraint"/"The fighting in our chests". They give in to each others love "wrong or right forgotten in our grand passion"/"intervening thoughts are deleted"
