Under covers
by
Roger Crique
(Age: 51)
copyright 09-05-2005
Age Rating: 13 to 127
Like the petals of a brimming flower she was.
Like the first trickle of a raging river she was.
Such were her charms.
My fingers through her tresses I ran.
Her infectious laugh reverberated through my soul.
Angelinc gaze hypnotized me to despair.
But then she left.
She traveled to a distant land,
where the pace was hurried and the hearts were cold.
She was all grown up now and could make her own decisions.
But in this strange land, she struggled.
She learned an old craft and practiced daily.
She sold her smile and rented herself.
Her ambitions grew, like the trickling river that she once was.
This trickle became a voluptuous river that raged in secret quarters.
She found crumpled, corrugated skin against her youth.
She felt hypocrisy behind every smile and pain in every gift.
After many years, she returned to town and knocked on my door.
And so, wary, I opened it.
Her semblance was dried,
like the leaves in chilly autumn.
Her gaze, tarnished by her travels.
Her charms, faded with the youth of her years.
But then, she smiled and took my face in her hands and the tears flowed.
It was her! I hugged her tightly and invited her to pass.
I ran my fingers through her tresses once again.
Her breasts, against my chest, had lost their form.
Her waist was none existent.
She was frail in my embrace.
She was no longer a raging river,
but a stagnant pond, her stare, dulled by hopelessness. She was but a distant memory of what she once was.
But it didn’t matter to me!
It really did not matter.
She had returned to me, as I knew she would.
I held her in my arms again.
Oh, my sweet soul, I have missed you much.
And then, when she laughed,
I realized she’d never left me.
"You will not die, you will live," I whispered in her ears.
Her tears rolled down my back.
There was no treatment for her.
There was no hope.
We became one; again in a deep and hard embrace.
She was not going to slip away this time.
So I decided to consummate our love,
to share the same fate as she,
to stick by her until the end.
We cuddled up and cried tears of hope.
Perhaps we could be saved?
Until then, we made love and forged a pact,
Blood to blood, needle to needle,
under the covers of my bed.
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This is definitely filled with much emotion, both sorrow, longing, joy. I agree with James, this could make a great story, but then maybe it's better the way it is, keeping us intrigued and left with so many questions at the end.
You have a great talent for story telling and this story can be understood by many. Sometimes we make choices that take us down a path we don't want to travel, but life often leads us in directions that are not favorable. Forgiveness is one of the greatest gifts that can be given. Life can be wonderful if you look in the right places. Anthony
I am going to put a picture up and tell me if you can see a resemblance. Sometimes I swear you are talking to me. And then I read more and know that its not, and i must say, too long, hardly. no offense Jim
Wow, Roger, there is a lot going in here, and I'm not yet sure how to approach it, critically. You seem to need to say a lot here, on an intellectual and emotional level, and I tended to lose some focus while reading it. It's long, and if you're like me, you seem to tire a bit towards the end of the poem, with the first half seeming more well written than the last. The title and end are related and witty, but I get a little lost in the middle.
Also, this may be better perhaps as a short story or "prose-poem."
Welcome !
