Must think me dirty

Sitting here looking out the window at a city I barely know,
knowing not if I can call myself fine again
knowing not when the thought of you won't wake me up from a dream.
It has been a lifetime since I have seen you.
My bed wouldn't recognize you
and i have long since changed the sheets and washed the floors and windows.
I still remember the way your skin shivered when I rubbed my fingers on your arm
and how my breath would catch when you kissed me.
These are not thoughts to have in public places
and yet it seems strangely fitting as Tori sings to me in this room of strangers.
I feel like the details are written all over me
and that these people are craning their necks to read the chicken scratch on my arms.
I know they can hear my thoughts and they must think me dirty.
What they don't know is that we aren't together
and that no matter how many times I imagine our bodies together
mine has been replaced and so has yours.
But that doesn't stop you from all but being with me right now
in this stranger filled room on the corner of a city that doesn't know my name.

Reviews

[Tomás Ó C..]

A good sense of loss expressed here, I hope the chicken scratches are not real... no one is worth self harming over...

[A Simple man]

So sad, true, and full of emotion. Very lovely piece showing how sometimes we never really do completely move on. Know the feeling and love the poem! Thank you for the read!

[Pax Analog]

Your poem captures the poignance of change, the eeriness of lost intimacies.

All brought into bold relief by a strange new city.

There is a primal courage in your unflinching eye, as well.

Ghost of memory nearly consoles the poet in her brave new whirl.

[Don Coorough]

Nice write. I really loved these lines, "My bed wouldn't recognize you/and i have long since changed the sheets and washed the floors and windows./I still remember the way your skin shivered when I rubbed my fingers on your arm/and how my breath would catch when you kissed me." (I would like to point out that you didn't capitalize the "I" in the second line quoted, but did, twice later, so I am assuming that is a typo and not a device borrowed from e.e. cummings}. This next part is particularly powerful, "I feel like the details are written all over me/and that these people are craning their necks to read the chicken scratch on my arms./I know they can hear my thoughts and they must think me dirty." Boy, what a killer final line, "in this stranger filled room on the corner of a city that doesn't know my name." Very nice writing, moving, emotional, poignant! Excellent! Kept it up. - EllisD