Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
||||
Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 08:07:07 AEST | ||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
Array
(
[sid] => 172870
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => I Grew Old in a Hotel Room, Waiting for You
[time] => 2012-06-07 05:20:56
[hometext] => Some experiences age us on the inside, without leaving a mark on the outside.
[bodytext] => I grew old in a hotel room, waiting for you. My soul began to desiccate, collapsing in on itself like an overripe peach that cannot remember summer. The blood of my joy fled from me, and I hid my pain in the dry, dark caverns of my heart. My mouth forgot flavor, as if, once deprived of promised kisses, it resigned itself to uselessness. My once strong legs became confused - the simple motion of dangling over the side of the bed so foreign - that they retreated under rented sheets to hide. My swollen eyes refused to focus, flitted about, alighted on nothing more substantial than a beige wall so unoffensive it nearly winked out of existence. Wanting disappeared, preferring to cease altogether instead of the humiliation of being thwarted yet again. I used up the last of my compassion on you, each drop wrung from my sinews, offered up in a bone chalice, leaving none to lubricate my joints. My teeth ground down, cracked, chewing on the sharp stones you called love. But I see now, as I refused to see then, they were only stones. You did not bury me in the ground, ensuring the end would come swiftly, but left me unburied, glancing your pebbles off me slowly, over days and months and years - so slowly that I did not notice how much of me had been torn away. My ribcage entombs dark, arid silence - where once there was bright, warm, rushing, now there is only hardscrabble. I am a bright-eyed , full-hipped corpse, that you bid to walk, and talk and smile, because funerary rites only belong to the people you love. I grew old in a hotel room, waiting for you, and when I left my corpse walked, and talked, and smiled so you would not notice. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 107 [topic] => 48 [informant] => HaruspicateAndScry [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
|