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Jonathan McNeill Jul 2012
I look down:
Control sinks away with every drop of sweat
Beading together slowly, tickling my face
And reminding me what loss is

Surely soon this will be over
And I will fight for her no longer
Her full form still reminds me
Of a task I must complete

You are beautiful, I confess
Lies now seem to ease her less
A word devoid of meaning
A joke told too many times

She smiles politely
And as I look down at her I feel my heart begin to tickle my face
And almost purely out of instinct,
I look away, to save myself
Note: This poem is really raw, please feel free to leave some feedback as to what I might be able to change.
Also the current title, "Shelves" is a working title. One of my other works that this was transformed from was titled shelves so if you have any idea as to a title feel free as well
Jonathan McNeill Jul 2012
Velcro-like hands
Grip and pull
At every thread of his textile presence
As a spider clings
to her
silky haven in the rain

With every tear
she grows less stable
And every shudder
draws hopes of Heaven
Past this haven, in the tree branch, that she built her life upon

And the web; it softly whispers
It is trapped in finite murmur
Once high hopes of hereafter, embroider fears that she “was once”

In the rain,
she is suspended
Thoughts thieved away by daydream
Her mind drifts back to sunny lives
And her Velcro-like grasp
Loosens
Just a little.

— The End —