Free verse № 112782
She washed over me
She washed over me like water,
and I knew love
like love had never known;
she wriggled into every crevice, licked
me clean, then left--
but she came back, caressed me down, deeper still.
She went and came like some sick little game
and I was stone, alone and uncertain;
her visitations slowly eroded my hesitation
and I became used to her comings and goings.
We settled into a long routine, then: love when she was there
and happy rememberings on her trips away.
Slowly, though, she found my deep imperfections
and seeping into them she'd leave a piece of herself behind
to whip cold and hot.
She'd tell herself tales
when she returned
and slowly I cracked, I crumbled,
and she'd whisk those pieces away, rounding them to pebbles, then sand
while I remained
less
and less.
The strength of her love never waned
and in time it became too much
for what was left of me,
one raw stone,
and I let go.
I entered her to and fro,
another pawn of her whimsy
to slowly be rounded to nothing
through pleasure.
3 comments
She washed over me like water,
>>kâwashed over me doesnât need to be qualified with âlike waterââ>>economize your words for greater effect.
and I knew love
like love had never known;
>>abstract
she wriggled into every crevice, licked
me clean, then left--
>>okay, now weâre getting somewhere. Was it a salty tongue, like
>>sharkskin, so smooth on the approach yet tearing and scraping
>>like sandpaper as it pulled away?
but she came back, caressed me down, deeper still.
>>and what did that feel like?
She went and came like some sick little game
>>yep. Yep. Very clear to me.
and I was stone, alone and uncertain;
>> I have a hard time with stones being uncertain. They donât roll.
>>They know where theyâll wake up tomorrow. They know what they are
>>going to wear tonight. And they definitely know if they look fat
>>in that.
her visitations slowly eroded my hesitation
and I became used to her comings and goings.
>>tides? To repeat the water/comparison to elementals metaphor?
We settled into a long routine, then: love when she was there
>>delete âthenâ
and happy rememberings on her trips away.
>>both of you settled into this
>both of you with the happy rememberings?
Slowly, though, she found my deep imperfections
and seeping into them she'd leave a piece of herself behind
to whip cold and hot.
>>finding and seeping cold maybe be better verbs? More insidious?
She'd tell herself tales
when she returned
and slowly I cracked, I crumbled,
>>what sort of tales? About what? Why? And how did it come
>>about that you heard them?
and she'd whisk those pieces away, rounding them to pebbles, then sand
while I remained
less
and less.
>>again, delete âthenâ
The strength of her love never waned
and in time it became too much
for what was left of me,
one raw stone,
and I let go.
>>you never showed us that she loved you, only that she tortures you
I entered her to and fro,
another pawn of her whimsy
to slowly be rounded to nothing
through pleasure.
>>apart from âpawnâ being overused, the rounding to nothing slowly through pleasure is quite good.
Much work it needs, but you give hope. :)
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