(Written as one long paragraph, split-up for reading ease).


We came from nothing in the solemn evening, and with desire we left our hears on the tables of strict rebellion and morningless thoughts. We read our poems and let ourselves into the minds of one another without a thought of being strange or freaks or something like that. And, calmly closeness came over us like the rain surely must meet the ground, and we were the grass only growing greener within the beautiful sunshine of all that was to come. But winter is harsh, and harsh it is to me, when a woman in child like form throws my desires at you like some silly game, and there all my hopes go crushed by stupidity and lack of awareness to the beating of ones own heart.


Now sit here I do alone and you do not greet me, I am just a worthless soul. Good morning sweet honey, I see you've lost your sweet. No more falling asleep without loneliness, no more kisses blown into the depths of a screen, and still I feel it in my heart, still I feel it burning so. For the desire burns so strong, O! Long live the days of the past and my dreams so far gone. How I wished to taste your sweet lips, you had womanly beauty that I knew to love and not to gaze, but once more it has been taken away because no woman can be so kind. But, selfish is my heart, selfish is my love, and I cannot bear the ideas of my own uncertainty. I refuse to bear witness to tomorrow, and I wish you happiness and wish you well; but I cannot be the one that takes all of the pain, for it is my virtue no more!  But neither can I bring forth that pain, I cannot be the one that caused your broken heart.


Oh, darling how I need you so, I am sorry I am not perfect like I wish I could be for you. I wish for you darling I could be long tall and handsome, and that I could dress in casual manner to your liking, may I be a man of strength and a man of God, anything to please your soul. Sheer brilliance it would be if in only one night I could be the one you needed, but I never can be for time has betrayed me, and I still believe I am best fit.


Let it be that the meadows of any forest and the peaks of any mountain cannot be a means of stopping my journey to your soul, but what is time to a man who has lost so much to the misfortunes of his own misgivings and sickness untold? For you I would break down these falls, oh I have and been there through the midnights and the early morning stretches, through the shivers of the wintery cold to the hellish heat of your burning sick. O, what I would give for an ounce of your sickness, for an ounce would render me useful to your mind of womanly kind. Pulchritudionously you have been my eyesight, miraculously you have been my clarity of depth, and strangely you have not been anything but distant memories and occasional regret: for what I said and what I did not say, through the strength of my mind I must hold back, but for you to see another and not me, it isn't just safety but betrayal that has come upon me.


Bleeding heart, strike me like you've no mercy no content, for misery is my lover and she is my girl, au revoir mon belle amour, you may find comfort and solace in the hills of foreign south, for I am no use to you now, I am just another silly love-struck monsieur blindly fighting for the love of a senorita that time made a tease, but for a kiss, for a kiss, ironic it would be, for it would make perfection for the one that only wishes to be perfect for you. But for a kiss, for a kiss, never tomorrow, possibly in a dream.

1 Comment
  1. ancientgeekcrone 11 years ago

    Your poetry is poignant, sad, loving. despairing and hopeless in tone. The Melancholy of an Unattainable  or The Melancholy of Lost Love

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