Past Desire

I think about that night often,

I think I still miss you, well…

I miss the part of you that loved me,

The part that wanted me there,

On that old couch during that late night,

Enveloped in such rare circumstances.

The part that reached out, took a chance, 

That wanted to be vulnerable to me.

The part that told me to stay, and sit closer,

The one that opened up, 

and told me your deepest desire was me.

There was something about the warmth of your body,

The blend of emotional and physical proximity.

I miss that,

Feeling so close another person, sharing the same emotion,

Sharing the same experience of release.

The confessions, the embrace of truth, of an awkward first.

Reviews

[JayG]

You're writing from the outside in, as we're taught to in school, which is an inherently dispassionate approach. Great for reports, letters, and other nonfiction that employers need, but useless for poetry.

In this, you're talking to someone unknown, about the result of unstated mutual history. Meaningful to them, perhaps. But what's in it for the reader? They're learning that someone they know nothing about remembers a relationship they had with someone unknown?

My point is that instead of educating the reader on what matters to you, and what you feel, make the READER feel it. Don't tell them you cried, make THEM cry.

As an example, you say, "There was something about the warmth of your body," That's a declarative and accurate statement.

But...suppose you rephrase it as, "The warmth of your body against me, as shared passion faded into contentment, lingers still," it calls up remembered feeling in-the-reader, which triggers empathy.

Make sense?