Friday, March 25, 2011

The Garden

So here is rough draft of my newest poem, a spoken word piece, The Garden. It's still filled with plenty of mistakes; however the basic idea is there. The beginning isn't very solid, and the poem itself is not complete, so I'm just sharing a simple excerpt at the moment. I haven't had as much time for writing lately, but hopefully I will finish and edit soon. I'll be posting the final copy on my web page: Unrefined Poetic

I hope you all enjoy! Any suggestions/
critiquing is welcomed :) keep an eye our for new posts on my final piece, as well as additions to my web page!

...for the first time I realized I was naked, and so were you. With different names written across your new body--I couldn't look at you anymore, and please take your eyes off of me

lights back off
clothes back on
layer upon layer

there I was, trying to cover up every inch of me that's ever been reached by you. If I could, I swear I'd start with my eyes. You always said they were your favorite part of my body, your happy place. But now that's only found deeper within the opening of a stranger’s thighs.

Is this my punishment? God named me Eve, and I caressed every aspect of the forbidden tree, it's just that you tasted so sweet for a little I allowed myself to drink the lust from your skin, and I carved my name so deep into your back as if I'd then have some kind of possession over all your feelings.

I'm sorry God, I guess I got lust confused with another four letter word that seemed to roll beautifully off his lips to mine, that first time he kissed me like a secret that could only be told beneath his sheets.

I close my eyes to escape you; the delicate blues that sculpt my soul now drown to the salty abyss.

You've left me here, alone in this unknown garden, my thoughts grow through vines across my most outer layer of skin, the only thing to clothe me yet still leaving me completely exposed.

I bite my lip so hard to bleed a glue that contracts the surfacing words of sadness filling my tongue, leaving little room for breath itself.

My petite fingers that once kissed you so delicately now run to the form of angry fists, an action of self defense in case your body language decides to hit me harder with the carelessness in your lifeless hands.

I notice a pulsating pain coming from my left palm; I look to find the blood soaking remains of my heart, still beating, slowly.

You drank me dry, every last drop of my love, and returned my heart only once your thirst was quenched. Too tired to place it among my chest?

You left my heart in one hand and my eternal life in the other, leaving nothing but my fingers to shelter them from the outside world.

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