OK this one is a bit lovey-dovey so before you get the pitchforks out please note that I promise I'll explain my heinous actions, but only after you've read the poem - otherwise it would be like explaining a punchline before telling the joke.
Naked Lovers
Shedding clothes like bad memories
And carelessly casting them to the floor
To drown in a capitulating carpeted sea,
Disappear and mean nothing; no more.
The world around fading into footnotes
As they heave off each other’s days:
Splashing to the ground like a relieved raincoat
And sinking into the depths of the arcane.
Discovering each other with their eyes;
Wearing nothing but their souls over their skin
They embrace all that they can surmise
And engorge all they can of each other’s being.
As reality around all falls apart
They balance bare on their plateau
Hidden deep in a room inside their heart
From the mortal clutch of tomorrow.
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Any of you who have read any of the poems I've posted here before will know that my writing tends to lend itself towards a dark, depressing outlook but I thought I'd take the opportunity this time to explore a lighter idea. I think of writing as unwrapping an idea and folding it out into something structured, and the idea I dwelled on here is that love is to stand utterly naked in front of someone. I don't mean naked in the physical sense (although that too, I guess) but to completely bare oneself as a being. So for me love is two people standing naked in front of each other, having peeled each other away until nothing but the soul sticks out. And I guess what I tried to do here was explore that fragility and extreme sense of personal closeness. Please don't hate me.
Sometimes I think that, and sometimes I think everyone needs a compartment within them, however small, where they can store, dump or process those things which don't seem to belong in relationships. I'm not necessarily talking about duplicity here, either; it's more like an air pocket within a submerged cavern - a self-sustaining capability and a discrete sense of self which remains immune from the influence, good or bad, of other people. For one reason or another, I think most people end up not sharing everything of themself, even when they are in love.
ReplyDeleteThat said, it's hard to argue with the sentiment, and I'd be worried if you weren't exploring these ideas right now. It's lovely to see, actually.