Together we make up
one half of a set
of quotation marks.
Both bodies curved in,
paired arcs, resting on the crux
of back to chest contact,
we create an opening:
here, your breath asserts
don’t worry to my left ear
inhaling whispers, she’ll never know
at hairs on the nape of my neck.
Exhale, it could always be like this.
Turning towards you, I
transform us into two parentheses
(nested). Without the space we might
create an oval or some other
hopeful shape, but
I won’t touch you while you sleep.
Leaving between us, this gap we form
you and I roll over. Now
back to back.
Things said, can never be unsaid.
Rebecca Thill is a full-time graduate student and a part-time baker. Her poetry has appeared in East Coast Ink Magazine and some non-fiction pieces appear on elephantjournal.com. She enjoys any activity that involves being outside, more specifically activities that involve the sun. Crime shows and documentaries will always disgust and intrigue her. And she would be perfectly content if she moved to a cabin in the mountains where she could spend her days hiking and writing. You can find her on Twitter at @bec_caw
Categories: Poetry, Themed, Unfortunately I can't love you
Tags: e-zine, ezine, hyperbole, longing, melancholy, melancholy hyperbole, poem, poet, poetry, Punctuation, Rebecca Thill, submit, unfortunately I can't love you, writing
Melancholy Hyperbole 
Clever, creative, awesome!
Beautiful poem. I love “(nested).” The punctuation makes the longing visible.