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cody-edwardsPoems
Rather I did, once. No longer. We were magnetic, tectonic. Constantly and consistently converging. Unfolding. Seamlessly (it would seem) arranged on Memory's golden stage. But today, tomorrow, Where moves are flimsy and unsure Lines drop from lips in silence, Unraveling like gauze, As we both wait for alarums that cannot sound. I feel anesthetized, don't I? I— And the curtain will be merciful. A breath of disdain perhaps, disastrous. Your touch is autumn. I eclipse the sun, suffocate you from it. Take your warmth. Leave you colder than Ophelia And bloodier than Brutus. My inadequacy was once your balm, A catechism to ensure another world That we both know isn't sound. The very least you can do is become like Icarus Who was beautiful in his fall And silent at his end.
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Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 6:21 PM UTC
The Allusion
Rather I did, once. No longer. We were magnetic, tectonic. Constantly and consistently converging. Unfolding. Seamlessly (it would seem) arranged on Memory's golden stage. But today, tomorrow, Where moves are flimsy and unsure Lines drop from lips in silence, Unraveling like gauze, As we both wait for alarums that cannot sound. I feel anesthetized, don't I? I— And the curtain will be merciful. A breath of disdain perhaps, disastrous. Your touch is autumn. I eclipse the sun, suffocate you from it. Take your warmth. Leave you colder than Ophelia And bloodier than Brutus. My inadequacy was once your balm, A catechism to ensure another world That we both know isn't sound. The very least you can do is become like Icarus Who was beautiful in his fall And silent at his end.
© Cody Edwards 2010
Written by
cody-edwards
American
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 6:21 PM UTC
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