At 3:30 I had opened my eyes to another dreary morning; alone beneath the duvet curled up in a pocket of warmth that would soon dissipate into my apartment’s chilling air.
He was back last night; streaked dark blonde hair, and infatuating sky-blue eyes that spoke regrets that his mouth never expressed, he had come again, as always. The six days he was gone were also the same: every hour at the office as boring and uneventful as the next, a precise reflection seen in my spare time too. The clubbing with the Girls on Fridays was never as it used to be, when rowdy romps and sexual teasing was the only thing that I had to keep me sane.
Until he came.
I could remember the times when the nights had been as hot as the day, when it was a different man every week, with heavy grunts and moans and gasps that had satisfied me enough to live through another. When the power and influence of alcohol that shot down my throat had remained strong and intoxicating, a sensation that kept me on my feet for hours, yelling and dancing frantically. When I’d wake on the following day, and after a hearty, greasy full-English, drive around town and into the country air that was refreshing and reeking of that indescribable fragrance of nature.
But then he came.
Now all I see are days, much the same, in a continuous and eternal cycle until he comes back, comes home, comes to me. When the sepia reality that I live in; dreary grey skies like granite; low howls of misery as the oblivious wind slices through the emotionless trees; and the depression , unstoppable as death, becomes an oasis of happiness.
When he’s here.
Life is bright, lucid... alive, when he’s here. Kisses of love tender upon my lips and hugs of protection wrapped around my body. Excitement and adventure, both day and night, as we discovered new things unbeknownst before- the experience, the people, the sex- everyday was something new. The arrogance and selfish gladness when we’re together, and those around us are alone.
Alone... when he’s not here.
But as I lie there, deep in reminiscence, he’s out there in the silence, crawling through tomorrow; the deep sky turning pale with the bitter breeze biting at his neck. His black jacket shrugging off the cold, and his black shoes tapping steadily against the concrete in the middle of the road, and his long, black tie fluttering carelessly in the harsh winds. But that didn’t matter.
He was gone.
But I know, in my mind, chiselled deep into my subconsciousness- when I dream, when I wonder- that he’ll come back to me when I’m on the brink. And when he’s done, and my world has been replenished of hope and bliss, it will be time to take his leave once again.
He’ll be gone.
Hey Z03.
This was, in my opinion, an impressive piece of prose poetry, well thought out and written. The way you used the adjectives to describe life with and without the man reveals a lot about the narrating character: this man is what she lives for. The themes you demonstrated and wrote about were mature and fitting for the theme of this piece, and for this spectacular poem, I commend you.
However, as much as I also tend to use commas an awful lot, they do seem quite overused in this piece, and not just in the sense that more complex punctuation could be used (you seemed very fond of the semi-colon), but more in the way that in a few cases a full-stop would have been fine. For example:
"Now all I see are days, much the same, in a continuous and eternal cycle until he comes back, comes home, comes to me."
This line was emotional and powerful, but I think that full-stops at the end of each repetitive sentence (comes...) would be much more effective to inspire the reaction you desire in your reader.
No spelling mistakes I could point out, but I'm not too sure about 'the Girls', I may be wrong, but I think that could be incorrect, because I see you're naming a group, but I'd look that up, if I were you.
But, as I said, this was a brilliant first piece and I'd love to see more of it. Keep it up!
Regards
DNX
"I could remember the times when the nights had been as hot as the day, when it was a different man every week, with heavy grunts and moans and gasps that had satisfied me enough to live through another. When the power and influence of alcohol that shot down my throat had remained strong and intoxicating, a sensation that kept me on my feet for hours, yelling and dancing frantically. When I’d wake on the following day, and after a hearty, greasy full-English, drive around town and into the country air that was refreshing and reeking of that indescribable fragrance of nature.
But then he came.
Now all I see are days, much the same, in a continuous and eternal cycle until he comes back, comes home, comes to me. When the sepia reality that I live in; dreary grey skies like granite; low howls of misery as the oblivious wind slices through the emotionless trees; and the depression , unstoppable as death, becomes an oasis of happiness.
When he’s here.
Life is bright, lucid... alive, when he’s here. Kisses of love tender upon my lips and hugs of protection wrapped around my body. Excitement and adventure, both day and night, as we discovered new things unbeknownst before- the experience, the people, the sex- everyday was something new. The arrogance and selfish gladness when we’re together, and those around us are alone.
Alone... when he’s not here.
But as I lie there, deep in reminiscence, he’s out there in the silence, crawling through tomorrow; the deep sky turning pale with the bitter breeze biting at his neck. His black jacket shrugging off the cold, and his black shoes tapping steadily against the concrete in the middle of the road, and his long, black tie fluttering carelessly in the harsh winds. But that didn’t matter.
He was gone.
But I know, in my mind, chiseled deep into my subconsciousness- when I dream, when I wonder- that he’ll come back to me when I’m on the brink. And when he’s done, and my world has been replenished of hope and bliss, it will be time to take his leave once again.
He’ll be gone."
Well, these parts are awesome !! I really likes how you made these series of events, besides description was awesome !!
I like the way you're telling a story, It may be what lots of us feel but we're just unable to express... !!
"until he comes back", "when he's here", "he'll be gone"
Keep it up !!
-Ilham
"I could remember the times when the nights had been as hot as the day, when it was a different man every week, with heavy grunts and moans and gasps that had satisfied me enough to live through another. When the power and influence of alcohol that shot down my throat had remained strong and intoxicating, a sensation that kept me on my feet for hours, yelling and dancing frantically. When I’d wake on the following day, and after a hearty, greasy full-English, drive around town and into the country air that was refreshing and reeking of that indescribable fragrance of nature.
But then he came.
Now all I see are days, much the same, in a continuous and eternal cycle until he comes back, comes home, comes to me. When the sepia reality that I live in; dreary grey skies like granite; low howls of misery as the oblivious wind slices through the emotionless trees; and the depression , unstoppable as death, becomes an oasis of happiness.
When he’s here.
Life is bright, lucid... alive, when he’s here. Kisses of love tender upon my lips and hugs of protection wrapped around my body. Excitement and adventure, both day and night, as we discovered new things unbeknownst before- the experience, the people, the sex- everyday was something new. The arrogance and selfish gladness when we’re together, and those around us are alone.
Alone... when he’s not here.
But as I lie there, deep in reminiscence, he’s out there in the silence, crawling through tomorrow; the deep sky turning pale with the bitter breeze biting at his neck. His black jacket shrugging off the cold, and his black shoes tapping steadily against the concrete in the middle of the road, and his long, black tie fluttering carelessly in the harsh winds. But that didn’t matter.
He was gone.
But I know, in my mind, chiseled deep into my subconsciousness- when I dream, when I wonder- that he’ll come back to me when I’m on the brink. And when he’s done, and my world has been replenished of hope and bliss, it will be time to take his leave once again.
He’ll be gone."
Well, these parts are awesome !! I really likes how you made these series of events, besides description was awesome !!
I like the way you're telling a story, It may be what lots of us feel but we're just unable to express... !!
"until he comes back", "when he's here", "he'll be gone"
Keep it up !!
-Ilham