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Who is this stranger
sharing our sheets,
laying behind every breath
and guiding every whisper?

I don't know you.

What happened to Twenty
Questions? Where is the
laugh I loved, without
the lustful sighs?

What about the sun, long
gone from our full-moon sky?
Where is the soul I thought
swelled beneath your breast?

You died long ago.

Now you are killing me
one night at a time;
little   by   little,
death by death.

All I have left are wind-up
memories. What happened to the hands
       that loved to play, the mouth
       that loved to sing, the eyes
       that loved to gaze?

They burn with a sweaty heat
that has consumed the person I
once knew, left you a familiar
flesh with a stranger inside.

You are restless in the bed and
take my chest in your hand;
your heart is on fire, but
it's not for me.

   Was it ever for me?

Come and caress my loveless lines
for I have forfeited.
Take me down and kill me softly,
one last time.
©2009 =Non-Somnium
:iconnon-somnium:

Author's Comments

'La petite mort', for anyone who doesn't know, is French for 'the little death'. It's a term for orgasm, or more specifically the period immediately following orgasm. I came across the term in Spanish (el muertito) in a book on addiction I'm reading, and it reminded me of some relationships I've had in the past, which is what served to germinate this poem.

Critiques


:iconkneelingglory:
As with everything you write, I'm drawn in by your exquisite use of the English language. Your words are placed carefully, and it shows.

I would suggest removing the first strophe. The jargon is too common and not needed to open the poem. "Who is this stranger/sharing our sheets" is a powerful first line. The use of "our" has a double-meaning that's deliciously misleading till you read the rest of the stanza.

I'm not clear why laughs you loved should not have breathless sighs; sighs can be breathless for a variety of reasons. Maybe a different description of the sighs, as more melancholy (as I think you're trying to present) than simply breathless. Alternatively, you can remove that stanza entirely because "All I have left are wind-up/ memories. What happened to the hands...." does a good job of re-describing what you're already written, and with more impact because of the repition.

I love "Where is the soul I thought/ swelled beneath your breast?" So much longing and betrayal in that question.

In the final stanza the use of the word "last" twice irks me. Maybe the last line could read "one final time"? Or you can take off the first "at last" entirely. I rather like ending that with "forfeited", it sounds quite dejected all on its own.

Overall, I'd work on keeping an eye out for common language and repition of ideas/images for this piece. Otherwise, great job! Certainly a different path for the prompt to lead you down. :)
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Comments


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:iconshehtaz:
I admire how you took the prompt and turned it into something dark and brooding. And the fact that there isn't a sexual undercurrent. Sexual undercurrents are becoming a tad monotonous, in my opinion.
:iconnon-somnium:
=) Thanks, was hoping someone would enjoy that little hint of my own creative process; I love seeing / reading about other people's, myself. I've got some odd opinions about sexuality, mostly that it plays too much of a role in many people's lives to the point that too much of a good thing becomes... well, a bad thing.

Thanks for reading =D.

--
Put to rest all that's not life.
Drink for beauty,
and fill my blank page.

-Cadence of Her Last Breath, by Nightwish.
:iconkneelingglory:
I just noticed that I critiqued but never :+fav:ed this. Sheesh.

Also, the line "left you a familiar/ flesh with a stranger inside." is really powerful. :thumbsup:

--
*DailyLitDeviations | *Critique-It | =TheContestClub | *DailyDeviants

Not For Sale: Fighting Human Slavery
:iconnon-somnium:
Haha, thankee ^^. I like this poem, and I'm very thankful for your suggestions - they helped it muchly.

Also, apologies for letting a lot of your pieces slip past my commenting lately; I'm beating my head against the wall that is the next part of Beyond Absolution, and I tend to go into hermit mode when I do that =(.

--
Put to rest all that's not life.
Drink for beauty,
and fill my blank page.

-Cadence of Her Last Breath, by Nightwish.
:iconkneelingglory:
Never apologize for that! I appreciate the input when you can give it, but it isn't a requirement or anything lol. Besides, I'd much rather see another chapter of your novel than a million comments :D I really like where it is going so far.

--
*DailyLitDeviations | *Critique-It | =TheContestClub | *DailyDeviants

Not For Sale: Fighting Human Slavery
:icontorinkurai:
Amazing piece is amazing. I love the language in this piece and the view of sexual passion as an all-consuming fire that even consumes the person behind it is a really powerful image.

--
Happiness is the highest form of wisdom.

boku wa boku no koto ga shiritai

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April 20
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