Love, Poetry, Writing

Window. A poem.

She’s seated before a window, sun highlighting shiny diamonds in her hair. 

Her fingers are flamingoes on her smart phone, a wily dance sped up to double speed, of muscle memory and familiar keys. 

Lips as full as pillows that I long to cushion with my own, and the dress she wears hugs contours of which I am so painfully aware.

Her eyes escape to velvet shores and silken sheets upon the beach, and I must look away too soon, lest she see me here.

Scant feet separate us and small talk fills the space between, all luscious notes and plosives, siren tones and sibilants, all lead to hidden depths unseen.

And so I say my goodbyes of which she’s painfully unaware, dragging feet and head hung low as I make my way back home, and relive those few minutes that we were together there.

28 thoughts on “Window. A poem.”

    1. Thanks! Yes, I write from my own experiences. But all writing requires you to use your imagination to create the imagery you desire for the poem or story. Everyone has experiences they can write about from their own lives. So give it a go, you might be pleasantly surprised at what comes out. I find writing incredibly cathartic, a wonderful outlet. 🙂

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      2. I wouldn’t recommend getting drunk or doing drugs to help you to write (say no to drugs, kids). When I’m sad (I suffer from depression) it brings out the best in my writing – the weight of emotion behind the words makes a difference. If you haven’t written creatively in the past I’d suggest enrolling in a creative writing or poetry writing class, a good way to learn, and also a good way to socialise and meet new people. 🙂

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    1. The sun shining through the window is making highlights in her hair, which gives a halo-like impression (reflected in the protagonist’s positive view of every aspect of the object of his desire). Just a metaphor. But If you think it’s dandruff, that’s okay as well 😉

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