Cutting to the heart of all this longing
is it the vicious tongue you wag at me
or the perpetual mystery hanging from your actions
the contradictions of your possible state of mind
I see the hurt, I feel the pain you carry
and sense your urge to be desired by men
the flirt of all you do rings loudly before you
and against my better judgement
I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores
With every scar you try to inflict
or accidentally leave on my skin
I drift away for a moment only
then find myself battling the waves
I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores
I know you didn’t ask for this
I know you didn’t choose me or this adventure
Yet, I brought it to you anyway
and you didn’t quite turn me away
And you’re cute, there’s no denying
you spill out in all my favourite places
and know how to smile with a catastrophic magnitude
that tears the hair clean off my scalp
The bile in your belly, the bitch barely-contained
I never knew how much I loved that rage
your misery is contagious
I feel its cells dividing in my bloodstream
I doubt I am the only one you’ve drugged this way
I know you’re not planning to leave your man
but as long as you keep stoking the engine of longing
I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores
I dream about you most nights
and when I’m on the bus
or train, or tube, or walking down the street
or when I’m in bed with somebody else
I dream it’s your body
over which my hands journey
And yet you only reach out a paw for me
when you know I cannot be there
you only say you might want for me
when you know we can’t connect
You’re playing me, humble instrument to your vanity
you keep me hanging on for nothing real
I know all of this so well and yet I gladly hang myself
I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores
Sometimes it seems; maybe you feel more for me than I realise
an ambiguous choice of words and perhaps it could mean more
you say the lovers kissing in the bar, are reminding you of me
I say the denim shirt I wore today was reminding me of you
So, who are you anyway and why do I long like this
I feel a sudden shortness of breath
when I look into your eyes
I feel my chest twinge when you catch me looking
There’s something in your history too
I know you’ve got some good hidden in you
beyond the selfish drive you choose to expose
I know there’s something that I could harness
There’s something in the things you’ve seen
the pleasure I know you’ve experienced
your taste for the beautiful and the sublime
perhaps if I could make you choose me, it would mean I’m beautiful too
You laugh at my jokes…
no matter how ruthless the punchline
the sharper, the more scathing the better
I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores
I need to catch myself
before I fall much further
slam my pick in the ice
before the precipice
Cutting to the heart of all this longing
I see such complicated shapes emerging
and despite all my better instincts
I can’t help but come swimming back to your shores…
[2015]
Thanks for reading.
Image borrowed from: http://margaret-durow.com/
The Lighthouse 
Absolutely stunning
LikeLike
Thank you Harley. I put everything into this one (which is why it’s so long) 🙂 Tx
LikeLiked by 1 person
I agree totally with Harley. This is an amazing piece, and, since it is the first work of yours I’ve read, I know that I’m going to really enjoy your blog.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on Peter's pondering and commented:
I’ve just started to follow Tom, and have read only 2 of his poems so far.
If this one is typical of his talent then I am really going to enjoy his words, and his voice. He has tremendous expression and, I’m sure, he is going to gain a tremendous following.
Listen to “Anatomy of Longing” and then try “Ellipsis”. I’m sure you will love them!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I see you’ve met a siren…..best wishes flowic
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh you bet. She’s with an artist now and since they got together all he paints is her…
LikeLiked by 1 person
years ago i’d find that aspiring…and heart warming….being an object is not of this particular flesh….an idol to represent, its w/in vision, hindering all of it….Thank you for sharing
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is beautiful yet painful, the urge of moving on! There’s a seduction of ruthless love, rage, and pain in this poem that I felt! Amazing!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Aww thank you so much for reading and commenting. It’s so rewarding to know you got all the stuff I was feeling when I wrote it. I wish I could write poems like this every day, but unfortunately, they don’t come along that often for me. Thanks again!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s a pleasure!
Can relate. All we can do is to sometime romanticize the idea of being in someone else’s shoe,then write how would you feel or being in a parallel universe and think ‘what if-s’..It is easy to pen someone else’s memory than yours. Because sometimes it gets hard to express yourself even while writing, imagination is the key, well but who knows! 😆
LikeLike
Epic.
It’s that simple.
🖤🖤🖤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! 😀 As you well know, sometimes it can all be said in a few words… This time, I felt like I needed them all! Thanks for reading.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re most welcome.
Every word was a delight 👍🖤
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a great reading, the whispering/breathy part fit in perfectly. Read like it’s written. And then this (and so much more):
“And yet you only reach out a paw for me
when you know I cannot be there
you only say you might want for me
when you know we can’t connect”.
You’d got a way with words. I probably felt this one too much. Can really relate to this. And your style is just your own. Really exciting work.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah! Thanks for listening. That audio recording was the first time I had ever read this poem aloud but I suppose I must have subconsciously known how I wanted it to sound. I’ve tried recording it more recently with a better microphone but this version is still the best… Thank you as always for your generous support and for taking the time to read and comment.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I completely understand what you’re saying about the microphone. Sometimes the higher quality doesn’t make for a better experience. And there is something to be said about lo-fi music. I feel it’s perhaps a realer experience, if that makes sense.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
LikeLiked by 1 person
As powerful now as when I first read it. Is she still being painted or has she gained yet more enchanted and entrapped souls?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I wonder Peter… I’d imagine many lives are being shredded left right and centre as her enchanting vortex calmly strolls by. I daren’t look, but I do wonder. Thanks for appreciating this one, I have a real soft spot for it too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
As the Moody Blues sang, Isn’t Life Strange?
LikeLike