Naked on Cashmere

Hidden away above two thin staircasesa bed, a desk, and bookshelf,a writer’s paradisethe rain would fall and setits cadence to my thoughtsthe old radiator pumped hot breathforcing my window to be cracked a pinchand there each night I would fall asleepin a melody of cold and hot—wrapped up safe in all my ghosts.  xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com

We drowned out the voices in our hearts that our love had run its course,for this night at leastthe old music played louderthan the truth that beat beneath our shirts, and as the stars melted into morningwe smiled at the old storiesand left our love hanging in the airas we embarked alone on our tomorrows. xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com

Have you ever had a feeling there’s more to youthan the personeverybody else seesa person hidden deep within the very fabric of your soul— you must pull that threadunravel the truth of you and wake within yourselfthat great giant you already know you can be. xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com

Go forth and conquer for the world is small and you are a giant and every stepyou takewill make the ground shake as it risesto meet you. xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com

To be honestyou scare meI’m terrified of letting you inof seeing myselfmore clearly through your eyeswondering if I’m good enoughor if one day I’ll lose youbut the truth isnot having you at allscares me morethan all the othertruths of loveand that thoughtmakes me brave.xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com

Her love came from deep withina calm acceptanceof who she was in the worlda quiet respectfor the face she sawin the mirror.xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com

She flirted with lifeand life flirted right back with her, as if all the universecame more alivejust for herand everything felt her glow.It wasin the dewin the starsand the colors of the sky—they all shonebright as they couldin the hopesto catch her eye.xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com

We ran from beach clubs in rain showers drinking champagne from bottles jumping into pools in our clothes and kissing under lightning, we yelled promises in thunderclapsto never grow old— and I fell in love with you and the absolute certainty it all would last forever. xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com

I want to know every part of you, every scar, every bruise, I want to trace the map of you, my fingers a compass, your freckles the constellations which in my heart I will chart so when I close my eyes I’ll have you in my stars forever. xx Atticus@atticuspoetrywww.atticuspoetry.com

There we were making rhythmsJumping ahead of Earth’s own heartbeatSetting new times to our universeAnd we drank it in like warming wineWe the childrenRunning to desertsPockets full of magicWith whiskey spirits in our souls and our wingsUs few the boldThe brave trodden soulsTobacco stinging bright our gypsie eyesKaleidoscopes reaching fingers through our mindsTo stir our colored dreamsOur dusty hearts set aflameBy setting stars and shooting sunsAnd here the sparks become our lovesAnd so with them we danced upInto airless skies and cloudless nightsTo make ash angels on moonsAnd snowflakes of Milky Waysxx Atticus@atticuspoetry

Oh no,I’ve had the slow murmur of a Paris thought,the kind that won’t leaveuntil well aftera month-long-weekof rosé,cafés,and sunsets on the Seine. xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

"Paris in Spring” by Sara Teasdale The city's all a-shining Beneath a fickle sun, A gay young wind's a-blowing, The little shower is done. But the rain-drops still are clinging And falling one by one -- Oh it's Paris, it's Paris, And spring-time has begun. I know the Bois is twinkling In a sort of hazy sheen, And down the Champs the gray old arch Stands cold and still between. But the walk is flecked with sunlight Where the great acacias lean, Oh it's Paris, it's Paris, And the leaves are growing green. The sun's gone in, the sparkle's dead, There falls a dash of rain, But who would care when such an airComes blowing up the Seine? And still Ninette sits sewing Beside her window-pane, When it's Paris, it's Paris, And spring-time's come again.  xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

There is no safer place I knowthan tuckedin a cornerof a café in Pariswith a bottle of roséand an afternoon to spare. xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

In the morningsshe taught me Frenchand after breakfast she would paint and I would writeand as the spring rain fell on the skylight and the tea steamed from its mugsmy heart hummed to the musicof the dream we’d found. xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

The way you flirt with ParisI am forgottenleft in the spinning blossomof your love—and all I can do iswatch you bothand smileas the gardens bloom.xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com 

"Fourth Caprice in Montparnasse" by TS Eliot We turn the corner of the street And again Here is a landscape grey with rain On black umbrellas, waterproofs, And dashing from the slated roofs Into a mass of mud and sand. Behind a row of blackened trees. The dripping plastered houses stand Like mendicants without regrets For unpaid debts Hand in pocket, undecided, Indifferent if derided.  Among such scattered thoughts as these We turn the corner of the street; But why are we so hard to please?xx Atticus @atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

Hello, and welcome to another week of Naked on Cashmere. This week, Atticus explores the theme PARIS and invites you to take a moment each day to reflect on what this means to you. Xx For those leaving reviews and ratings, please screenshot and DM us on Instagram at @AtticusPoetry so we can find winners! And to submit your poems, visit AtticusPoetry.com/podcast.Today, we’re starting off with “Give Me A Room In Paris.”Xx Give me a room in Paristhe smaller, the betterand it must be winterand it must be coldso we can make it hottoo hot to sit stilland the window must be thinso we can hear the bellsand the power must surge and bubbleso the lights flickerand the records skiplet the water be weakso our coffee is strongso we can stay up late to dance.Give me this Parisand I will paint for youall the truths I knowabout magic. Other Poem Read Today:"In Paris With You” by James Fenton“The Eiffel Tower” by Ronza Z xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

Poetryto meis stumbling in the darksearching forthe right wordsto describethe feelingI getwhen she smileswhile she sleeps. xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

“Acquainted with the Night” by Robert Frost I have been one acquainted with the night.I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane.I have passed by the watchman on his beatAnd dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of feetWhen far away an interrupted cryCame over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye;And further still at an unearthly height,One luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com

The sunset ragedin its gentle furya four-horsed apocalypsecharging toward ushuddled on a beachin woolen blanketssinging songson a ukuleleto the ever-riding doom of dark. xx Atticus@atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com