It is in the Fingertips

Love is more than the extravagant kisses,
it is in the fingertips, the fibres,
the softness of hair that curls above the ear,
it is in the bruises on skin that has seen
many a season and the veins, pure blue.

I find myself wearing jumpers inside out
and visits are curtailed, thoughts jailed
inside the jangling of a heartbeat,
the one that stilled, so suddenly.

The birthday cakes and cards, the presents
opened and now relegated to grief,
the vultures howling and the growling hunger,
my days were structured, now they're gone.

It takes a lifetime to live and moment to die
and love, it is in the fingertips, the
seasoned skin and tone, it reaches down to
marrow and bone and an everlasting echo.




Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 779 times
Written on 2015-01-03 at 19:09

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
This is a beautifully written elegy, Elle.
2015-01-04



Can't say much more than the other comments, but this is a fine and moving study of love and grief.
2015-01-04


shells
Those final three words have such an impact, such a beautifully intense piece.
2015-01-04



Truly beautiful, Elle. If grief can be expressed in words, this poem has accomplished that. It's perfection in words and emotions and instills a deep sadness.
2015-01-03