I, a crooked
body of blue, was tracing the tributaries underneath my skin when
I saw you
picking your nails with a cautious glance –
I think you
were afraid to take me in,
and all I
could taste was salt and disorder coming back up my throat
but in spite
of this, I still felt you whisper
‘I’ve
never been this close to anyone.’
The water in
which I was drowning smiled, because I was its,
and I could do nothing about it because I am insane.
In the name
of Tomorrow’s, you'll figure it all out and you’ll let me go
in case the
real me never comes back again.
mas vous êtes
le plus grand;
I can’t
come to think of losing the sound of making sense,
the scent of
sanity,
you – the
only boat sailing by the chaotic, dry harbor of me.
The sleepy
hands of slumber cradle me now, and
I fall asleep
because I want to wade in my crazy oddity with you by my side
but I
actually am just tired, and I’d hate to make you swim with me
because then, you’d begin to drown too.
This is well-titled. Excellent recurrence of water-theme. This is called "through-line."
ReplyDeleteI just love the first two lines.
This poem needs revision. Take out some lines that were for the assignment, but aren't really necessary.
I see potential for this to be a legitimately great poem.