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nessa
06-22-2001, 08:40 AM
The face that I see through the glass,
the face that is staring at me,
is black and dark with memories
and pale with exhaust.
And I am tired.
I lay me down on a bed of velvet,
you are warm next to me.
A finger wipes my face of,
it's covered with smoke and clay.
For that day is long and I always get lost,
between worlds of mine and theirs.
The face that I see through the glass,
the face that is staring at me,
I can tell it was once beautiful,
that vermilion colored it's ashen face;
like a painter that would hurl his brush against his new canvas,
showing his hurt and pain.
Brown limp curls descend sickly,
disappearing into the dark.
I disappeared once,
into the shadows of myself.
I was swallowed into the night.
Dullness is all I witness, looking straight at me.
And I will cry at night,
for the person who that once was.
Gaping at the face behind the glass, begging to be let in.
I will cry in the dark,
I will always cry for you,
beauty left to die
in the reeking swamps of life.
I can remember long ago,
I thought I saw you there,
a face of pure beauty and naivet',
flushed with rapture.
Thick curls of chestnut,
and a laughter that disappeared and died away-
into a mixture of voices.
And I beg you to tell me why,
why I cannot break the glass and touch you
and cry on your shoulder
to wash the dirt away.
For I know a face of agony,
and beauty that once filled it.
As we lie on our bed of velevt,
and you touch me,
wiping away our tears,
only then do I remember
how I once lay on a bed of dust.
You will not be able to touch me either,
or remember my face-
when I will be looking at you,
and you through the glass.

Tyler
06-24-2001, 08:56 PM
Have you decide on the title for your poem?
Regarding the glass, are you refering to the glass on the coffin top? I thought you were writing about the passed away person in the coffin, looking out to the living person outside until i read this "you are warm next to me", so i guess i am at the wrong track. Can you share your interpretation?

Sigh
06-24-2001, 10:53 PM
Magic! What a deep and mysterious woman this poet must be!:)
It's funny...I didn't see Tylers glass coffin top when I read this...I saw a mirror...isn't it great how our interpretations can lead us off in such different directions...
I've re-read it now with both interpretations and I like it even more...perhaps the ambivilance is intended...oh to be slain on that velvet
;)

nessa
06-25-2001, 07:17 PM
No, there is no coffin.
My poems are confusing, I tend to do that, I try to hide all my feelings and blur everything so no one will understand.
Isn't a poem so much better when you don't know the real meaning?
It's so fufilling when you read comments of your work-and everyones opinion is different, and none are your real translation.
The person in the glass is me-Lokking in the mirror, at who I once was, who I will be.
I am laying next to my dead corpse my lover my future.
The ending referrs to my past-talking to my future, my lover-talking about his future.