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She washed over me (Free verse) by nentwined 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.
Up the ladder:
We Were Burnouts
Down the ladder:
Mallard
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 9.0
Posted: September 18, 2004 3:43 PM PDT; Last modified: September 18, 2004 3:43 PM PDTWeighted score: 6.0757656 Overall Rank: 1166 Comments:
[n/a]
-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. @ 81.154.163.133
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19-Sep-04/2:36 PM
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Reply
"like water" - an excellent simile. Well done!
oy. ready? set? crit:
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.
Thank you.
Much work it needs, but you give hope. :) 496 view(s)
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