JPC (15th of December,1980 / Sorsogon, Philippines)

A Stranger In My Bed

Unlike a blind man who gets familiar with someone
by tracing his finger on the contour of one’s face,
I can stay all day looking at your face
- the fine lines on your forehead
- the lines under your eyes when skin folds whenever you smile
- the pout of your not-so-perfect lips
- the light stain in your teeth
- the unkempt hair when you rise from bed.

Unlike a little boy who tucks with his mother’s hand
While towing inside a supermarket,
I can hold your hand and never get lost with it
- the pinkness of your fingertips
- the tired veins showing on the surface
- the folds of your fingers
- the lines on your palms
- the spot of dirt on you untrimmed fingernails.

Unlike a stranger shrugging when bumped on the shoulder
by someone unfamiliar,
I can comfortably sit and brush shoulders with you.
- the creases in your elbow brushing with mine
- the subtleness of your skin
- the arms curled and palms clasped
- the comfort of your shoulder
- the sweet scent of your skin close to my nostrils.

But more than the familiarity of your face,
The gentleness of your fingers,
The strength in your shoulder

More than the fine lines on your face,
The warmth when we hold hands,
The sweet scent when I am near you

More than looking at your face without speaking a word,
Holding your hands passionately
And sitting all day beside you,

My soul aches to know you more.

by Jose 'Pepe' Carrascal

Comments (1)

Such delicate and tender observations. This is a beautiful poem. I love these lines: 'Unlike a stranger shrugging when bumped on the shoulder by someone unfamiliar, I can comfortably sit and brush shoulders with you.' 'The gentleness of your fingers, The strength in your shoulder' 'Holding your hands passionately And sitting all day beside you, ' 'My soul aches to know you more.'