I woke up wanton, a wretch
spewing up bits of my soul into a porcelain bowl
which I mimic through the curve of my spine
as I hurl myself forward time and time again.
splatters of disgust paint the staunch white face
staring down my crooked throat, rusted memories
make their way along my retinae; fluttering cowards
waving white flags in flashes of black...
I try not to blink.
every space between breaths seems to span hours
as I clutch my stomach and whine - reclining
only when the acidic waves burn my eyes;
such emptiness weighs heavy on my limbs.
last night I found the spitting image of you
reflected on the counter by a bottle of gin
and I diluted myself instead of my drinks,
taking time to imagine the brim of my glass
was the rim of your lips..
it went down warm enough.
sunlight hits the checkered tile, dancing between
the lines of grout now filthy with my rolling tides
and I sigh, looking forward again to tonight
when I find reason at the bottom of a bottle.
Brilliant! Your words left me heartbroken but also overcome by a sensual wave. The bit with his lips being the brim of the glass was amazing! I could just sense the loneliness uttered by those few lines. Your beginning stanza was just perfect! You just got right to the point without forcing and "cutesy" introductions.
"spewing up bits of my soul into a porcelain bowl"
^I adored the subtle rhyme here! Just came so naturally.
I loved this poem and want to read it again and again. The more I read it, the more my heart aches for the person in the poem. You made everything just come alive so easily. Wonderfully done!
Can't say I appreciated the other two poems this week, they were, in turn, vacuous and pretentious, but yours is a very good poem, well-wrought, heartfelt, enjoyable - clear without being stative, powerful without being melodramatic.