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literature
Before Going Home-frazzledmage
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Literature Text
Before going home
I crawled back into our bed
Pulling your pillow to my face
Inhaling each scent.
Your perfume-
A blend of dark chocolate and throaty sighs
Pleading whispers and cinnamon apples-
Permeates throughout this wing
And down to the molecular level
Here in this chamber.
I have no plans
To make this bed
In which I lie,
Where we lay.
So I disentangle my soul
From the sheets
And drift down the hall.
In each room I let my fingertips
Swirl the memories
Pooled on every surface.
Gripping the hemmed edge
I softly snap out the new sheets
To cover each piece of furniture
Leaving misshapen snow drifts in my wake.
I pull the door shut behind me
And turn the key
Before going home.
I crawled back into our bed
Pulling your pillow to my face
Inhaling each scent.
Your perfume-
A blend of dark chocolate and throaty sighs
Pleading whispers and cinnamon apples-
Permeates throughout this wing
And down to the molecular level
Here in this chamber.
I have no plans
To make this bed
In which I lie,
Where we lay.
So I disentangle my soul
From the sheets
And drift down the hall.
In each room I let my fingertips
Swirl the memories
Pooled on every surface.
Gripping the hemmed edge
I softly snap out the new sheets
To cover each piece of furniture
Leaving misshapen snow drifts in my wake.
I pull the door shut behind me
And turn the key
Before going home.
© 2008 - 2024 evoke-the-muse
Comments6
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I'm not sure whether to comment here or on your page, but since I am here now, I'll hope that here is OK.
You capture a moment of parting from tokens of the intimate past.
The act of disentangling one's soul from such memorable sheets is a felicitous idea. In the second stanza, lines four and five are much less felicitous, but the poem is strong enough to cope.
It rests just a little ambiguously between the bookend of before going home.
You capture a moment of parting from tokens of the intimate past.
The act of disentangling one's soul from such memorable sheets is a felicitous idea. In the second stanza, lines four and five are much less felicitous, but the poem is strong enough to cope.
It rests just a little ambiguously between the bookend of before going home.