The curse of summer…

Curse you, July!

(You know I don’t really mean it, though – don’t you? Cause I don’t…

Curse you, July! For being so beautiful...damn.

Curse you, July! For being so beautiful…damn.

… how could I if you look like this? I couldn’t.)

Curse you for keeping me so busy, for not giving me enough time and quiet to write. Then again: thank you for bringing the summer to my city; thank you for pumping inspiration through my veins, for the itch in my finger tips. I can never decide what is worse: having no time to write but a lot of things you want to write down or having a lot of time on your hands but no story to tell.

This is not the time and place to come up with a conclusion, however – I’ve decided it’s the time and place for some actual writing: a poem, for a start.

 

 

summer nights

your voice

trickles down my spine

like Kool-Aid

dark and sticky and sweet

 

summer nights

 

I dip my toes into

the Atlantic

cold and deep and blue

 

summer nights

 

we pick blueberries

and squish them

between our fingers

dark and sticky and sweet

 

summer nights

 

when the rain comes

I stand still and

collect small oceans in my hands

cold and deep and blue

 

summer nights

 

your voice

washed ashore like a

message in a bottle

I can’t open

dark and sticky and sweet

 

summer nights

 

I hold my wounds

into a bowl full of ice

and watch the fresh cuts

cold and deep and blue

 

summer nights

 

we pick fights

and squish them

between our fingers

dark and sticky and sweet

 

summer nights

 

when the rain comes

I reach for your hand

 

when the rain comes

my fingers trace the shape of you in the dark

 

when the rain comes I don’t love you

any less

 

when the rain comes

 

cold and deep and blue

 

summer nights

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5 responses

  1. It’s Winter here and I’m already dreaming about Summer and collecting small oceans in my hands. Beautifully written.

    1. Thanks, girl! Oh yeah, I always forget your seasons are the other way round … winter isn’t too bad either, though: sipping hot cocoa, wrapped in a nice, warm blanket, what do you think? 🙂

  2. I lovelovelove this poem, it’s absolutely beautiful, and just a tad bit violent, which I like. The repetitions are great, it’s like a mosaic made up of different blues. Spot-on. 🙂

    1. Thankthankthank you! I’m glad you like it, and that’s exactly what I was going for! So, since you’re precisely my one target reader, I can lean back and be content with myself for a while now 🙂

      1. Haha, gosh, I am honoured! You should have lots more target readers though, you are amazing *hugs*

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