Glass on Glass

“Dear Clara
All these strange half-lit lives…” –Patrick Lewis, in a moment of insane clarity.

Glass on Glass
These frayed ends that make up a year
the phoenix that was our life for so long- burning out at night, reborn every morning
the ashes still underneath your half open eyes

my restlessness next to you in the bed
your reluctant turns back into me- sometimes smiling, sometimes half-frowning
eyes closed
our bodies liberation in distance before their liberation in closeness-
the way a heart beats, an ocean moves-
the ebb and flow in the search of sleep between the sheets and other body

that night in the bed I think of now
you taught me that lovers, like thieves, are always tired
and that whole night, the glass next to the bed was painted with our bodies and our gratitude and our hidden truths

the next day looking into the mirror I see a poem-
“Hate stands in a mirror/with Vanity at his side/he says I think that I should kiss you/she says I don’t like the way you lied”

all the truths I caught in that mirror-
that unspoken mantra we carved into our relationship:
“I’ll hurt you the most when I’m in pieces”

and then tonight
in the mirror of your room (that is so clean and ordered: a jagged fragment wrapped in clear, white paper)
the pain spills out
your tears, ashes over ashes
-two pieces
shattered into each other-
my clear tears
mascara stain on my forearm

I can’t believe the torment in you
something inside you has been removed and now things have lost their place
intricate chaos in beauty
the butterfly twitch at your eye

And against all the pain I will bring love
If I can’t be the light that you set apart-
I will be your shade
when the sun stares straight into your heart


(Opening quote is from Michael Ondaatje's In The Skin of a Lion)

Hello Ben, my name's Kris and I shall be your reviewer for today. ^_^
First of all, I think the message that you were trying to get across in this poem was sweet. Though it felt a little wishy-washy. It was bound up with too many clichés and poorly chosen metaphors that it sort of distracted from the entire point of this poem (in my opinion). In brief, this poem's message is a simple one - so keep the poem simple.

Now to the part that will be most painful for you to read >_< it always is for me, when I read reviews on my poetry.

the phoenix that was our life for so long- burning out at night, reborn every morning

This line is messy. It also patronises the reader. I know fine well what a phoenix is thank you haha. Just remove "burning out at night, reborn every morning". Then you'll have a pretty strong line.

the ashes still underneath your half open eyes

Lovely imagrey.

your reluctant turns back into me- sometimes smiling, sometimes half-frowning

"reluctant" ought to be 'reluctance'.

our bodies liberation in distance before their liberation in closeness-

This line makes no sense... It's too muddled up. When you apply "liberation" to the concept of distance and closeness, you lose the potency of it.

the way a heart beats, an ocean moves-

Wooah! This line is gorgeous. To me, if speaks of the intensity that love has - enough to move an ocean. Lovely.

the ebb and flow in the search of sleep between the sheets and other body

Pure Cliché...

you taught me that lovers, like thieves, are always tired

I like this. Expand upon it, I want to know more.

(that is so clean and ordered: a jagged fragment wrapped in clear, white paper)

Omit this entire line.

your tears, ashes over ashes

Keep this. It's exellent and ties up nicely with the ashes under her eyes earlier in the poem.

the butterfly twitch at your eye

Quoi?... What does this mean? Clarify.

when the sun stares straight into your heart

An OK ending, though I would really have enjoyed a final repeatition of the ash motif.

I liked this alot, I wish I could write like that.

Anyway I do agree with most of what he said above, but other than that this was amazing.

Keep Writing

-Flower-