Jones
Your name lingers in my mind
Like how cigarette smoke clings to whatever it can find
Constantly following, throughout each wash,
there forever and always invited no matter the cost.
Back to the press of my red lip,
where your name is let slip
spoken under the influence of the bottles that clink,
wobbly and causing me to trip
liquid in those bottles, the only thing that lets us click.
@twerp
Beautiful poem with melodious rhymes that flow smoothly. Keep writing, twerp.
@twerp Like Zen said, beautiful poem, Twerp! The way you describe the “cigarette smoke clings to whatever it can find” is such a vivid and spot-on comparison - that lingering feeling, no matter what you do—you captured it perfectly.
The rhyme scheme flows so naturally, never feeling forced. It almost has this hypnotic rhythm, like a thought looping over and over in your mind. And “Back to the press of my red lip, where your name is let slip”—that line? Absolute chef’s kiss. It’s such a smooth yet powerful way to show how certain names or memories escape us, even when we don’t mean for them to.
This whole poem feels effortless, yet it hits deep. You absolutely nailed the mood! Keep writing!
@twerp
A very interesting poem indeed. I appreciate how on the surface it almost flows like a dedication to another, almost pining. Yet the metaphors and simile paint a different undertone; the stale scent that cannot be cleaned off, the name that is not whispered lovingly from a place of passion but rather escapes unbidden, the fact that imbibement is the glue necessary to bring any semblance of shared commonality, "liquid in those bottles, the only thing that lets us click".
It has a gritty, real world air that makes it seem all the more honest. Good stuff.
