She has the same look about her,
or so it seems
when she tilts her cheek just so
and the tides shift,
shrink in on themselves
so ashamed by her disappointment.
Uncanny, how similar she seems
reflected beside me.
Ink will fade
given long enough.
Even stone weathers,
back to rock
with the help of time.
Why do that to yourself?
Play around with perfection,
even if it was only skin deep,
and the smoothness of these curves
turned your stomach at night,
when dusk settles its hands
either side of your hips,
presses into the grooves
where his tools worked you
into beauty.
Mounted you his sculpture
for all men to see.
Do you not appreciate how
his love made you
into a woman worth seeing?
With a smile steeped in pomegranate wine
you laughed,
tipped your head back,
closed your eyes against the sun
painted in place
in a sky that never greyed,
unlike me
who seemed to leech all colour
from our Elysium,
so perfect in the way it held you,
in the way it caught me
like a trap.
Blue lipped kissed,
laid your cheek on the ice
and searched for a gap
you would slip beneath.
Like hunting for pennies
beneath kitchen counters,
their copper wink bite
so, so cold in your palm.
And a creaking below
of sheets shifting, rising,
a threat to throw you out
into the wakeful night.
What you would give
for stillness
another side of the looking-glass.
Thank you for stopping by, and if you enjoyed the poem above then you might enjoy my poetry collection ‘It’s All In The Blood’ which can be purchased from Amazon.co.uk or Amazon.com. It’s a self-published collection so I have to rely on readers buying and reviewing the book to help promote it, especially in places such as the USA. Thank you again for your time.
Carol J Forrester 
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