Somewhere in her Breath

From this height, the city has the ugly visage of failed
possibilities, scraps of dystopia sequinned on her

colourless blouse, an aging matron who still walks the
streets in her high heels, her lips the desperate pink

of what might have been. I stand at the edge, counting
all the reasons to live. Below, the city murmurs even in

her sleep. Trying to fit her frame to the warm undulations
of the morning sky. Somewhere in her breath is the

poetry of those nights. Somewhere in her embrace is
the smell of heated passion, the taste of your skin on her

tongue, the beat of your heart in her urgent rhythm, the
shadow of your gaze in her underbelly. Somewhere in the

line of her upturned chin is the path we never dared to
take. Somewhere in her soft lap is everything we were.

Everything we lost. Have you watched this city disrobe
at sunrise? Today, her hand feels deathly cold in mine.

Hannah-Coulson-November

 

Image by (Picture prompt provided by Visual Verse)
First published on Visual Verse (Vol 06, Chapter 1)
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40 thoughts on “Somewhere in her Breath

    1. Thank you Sarah… I wrote it for the Visual Verse prompt and they wanted submissions in just a few hours with the time difference and everything… of course the poem didn’t make it to the short list, but was fun to write!!! To me it looked like the dystopia one would see, trying to jump off a tall building… 😀

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Wonderful evolution of the personification of city night as dead-ending courtesan. Some magnificent details — the opening lines are breathtaking (not, I’m sure, why she’s breathless) and the trope of fallen city night has heart and heft here. Time for a holiday in the country, hmm?

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  2. I love “the path we never dared to take” and her soft lap, holding “everything we were”. The image of standing on the edge counting the reasons to live is arresting. A fantastic write!

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  3. So many gorgeous and quotable lines in this one, Rajani! ❤️ I love: “her lips the desperate pink of what might have been.” Wow! 😍😍

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  4. I remember reading this poem in Visual Verse and thinking that you’d aced this one, Rajani! I love the personification, the matron with the desperate pink lips. I especially love the lines:
    ‘…Somewhere in her breath is the
    poetry of those nights. Somewhere in her embrace is
    the smell of heated passion, the taste of your skin on her
    tongue, the beat of your heart in her urgent rhythm’
    and
    ‘…Have you watched this city disrobe
    at sunrise? Today, her hand feels deathly cold in mine.’

    Like

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