Foreign Exchange by Todd-Michael St. Pierre
The heart has a mind of its own . . .
My logical side knew we weren't supposed to fall
in love, How was I to resist I mean, Barcelona
was in your eyes. I recall your cinnamon skin.
We were much too young, I know
Now, but Oh how I remember . . .
How we invented "The Kiss. "
I shivered in the heat of sultry summer
And your fingers left trails of ice on my body.
Your lips whispered over my flesh, as if to say
let me stay with you forever. (Your English was
broken just like my Spanish) Our language was
beyond words.
My soul burned with the need to be consumed by you
The world disappeared as I sank into you.
I wished for it to stay that way.
Too soon it ended and you were gone. Barcelona
was in your eyes, and in your spirit too.
Beside myself I was next to crazy,
shivering in the after- bliss of you.
Your English was broken and so was my heart.
(Of all things lost I miss my innocence the least)
Mother would not have understood.
Through prayers for grace my soul confessed,
Plum naked was your Sunday best!
Resistance was futile . . .
The heart has a mind of its own!
My logical side knew we weren't supposed to fall
in love, How was I to resist I mean, Barcelona
was in your eyes. I recall your cinnamon skin.
We were much too young, I know
Now, but Oh how I remember . . .
How we invented "The Kiss. "
I shivered in the heat of sultry summer
And your fingers left trails of ice on my body.
Your lips whispered over my flesh, as if to say
let me stay with you forever. (Your English was
broken just like my Spanish) Our language was
beyond words.
My soul burned with the need to be consumed by you
The world disappeared as I sank into you.
I wished for it to stay that way.
Too soon it ended and you were gone. Barcelona
was in your eyes, and in your spirit too.
Beside myself I was next to crazy,
shivering in the after- bliss of you.
Your English was broken and so was my heart.
(Of all things lost I miss my innocence the least)
Mother would not have understood.
Through prayers for grace my soul confessed,
Plum naked was your Sunday best!
Resistance was futile . . .
The heart has a mind of its own!
|
|
Rating: N/A |
This is a poem about a summer romance that I shall never forget or regret. Her name was Isabelle & the year was 1984. (We were 16) I have often thought of her through the years and have wanted to capture that experience on paper for some time now.
She was a Foreign exchange student that came from Barcelona to stay with a neighbor's family. We vowed to stay in touch and did not, but such is young love and adolescent passions. I chose to depict this in a raw and uncensored fashion just to be true to my memory of Isabelle.
She was a Foreign exchange student that came from Barcelona to stay with a neighbor's family. We vowed to stay in touch and did not, but such is young love and adolescent passions. I chose to depict this in a raw and uncensored fashion just to be true to my memory of Isabelle.
 |
Your poem expresses all of the emotions that I felt when I fell in love with an exchange student at my school. The world seemed to stop when we were together and everything seemed to be as it should. When he left I felt broken and beside myself. Your poem expressed every emotion I felt and still feel for the exchange student that I loved. - Van |
|
how many pesetas per dollar? - mark |
|
This poem is great because it is uncensored. Acensored poem is like a Baby born with clothes on, its just not right or true! - Bobby |
|
I really liked how you wrote this poem. I could tell it was straight from the heart. You described what you felt so well. - jenn |
