Texture

We sleep upon the rough carpet

Distracted—insomnia twins

Twirling threads and frays

 

Floorboards still heard

Beneath our pressed ears

Though muffled—small creaks

 

Of planks, bare, exposed in spots

Revealing coats of wax and stain

Covered in fresh oversleep

 

Our hands scuffed, abrasions

Soft—even in calloused stir

Touch, entwined, forever lured

 

21 Comments on “Texture

  1. You are welcome, I really enjoy the way you write, you’re very talented. I hadn’t seen your comment on my post, but after I saw this I rescued it from my spam folder. Appreciated, thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Do you mean the photo? That’s a concrete wall underneath a bridge taken when the sun is coming in at an angle to reflect light. Thanks

    Like

  3. This line jumped out at me: “Covered in fresh oversleep.” Isn’t that always how it works? Insomnia when it’s time for bed, the night’s best sleep when it’s time to be up. Your description of the floor could be a metaphor for the couple whose hands are entwined–creaky, bare, exposed, scuffed, abraded, yet soft and alluring. Nice, Elan. 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

  4. Hi Elan. I enjoyed the poem. My favourite line ‘…covered in fresh oversleep’. Could have been longer but I guess it’s a deliberate bite-size piece. See you on your next post

    Liked by 3 people

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