In half my body
I keep hold on you. In half
I fear you. When we spin in place
or twist in our sheets
I quickly lose track of where
my feelings for you are.
Did I leave the wanting
in my hands, or is that where
fear is resting now, and I
should push you off?
Do I turn my head to the right
to be near you
or to keep from seeing you?
And if perhaps the divide
is in fact between
my upper and lower halves,
well…it is no wonder
I can’t remember
where I put what.
When I see your eyes,
though,
that’s the moment when
I can feel the two sides at once,
soap bubbles pressed together
yet unjoined…
and I hold my breath
in anticipation of how
they will mix when
inevitably, they burst.
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Dark Matter 
May 2nd, 2010 at 4:22 am
“anticipation of how
they will mix when
inevitably, they burst.”
an incredible way to end a poem. so conclusive and yet, inconclusive the at same time. really goes with the idea of two halves of feelings for a person!
May 2nd, 2010 at 7:39 am
Thank you so much. I’m fond of this one.
April 25th, 2010 at 10:05 pm
I LOVE this…especially the clever soap bubble analogy. You have such a creative voice.
Pearl
April 27th, 2010 at 7:29 am
Thanks, as always, Pearl.