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Dear... This haphazard poem was written solely for you Matterless, what you came garbed in Fever elicited, passion anew You’ve graced me, the repetition of ‘could-have-been’ I loved the way you speak Of knowledge and triumph And I, bumbling and meek Tirelessly I sought and now still seek Your council, your court For my amusement, for my sport Conversing over a poisoned well I listen in genuine Raise my voice Sing with my friends amongst the din Higher on the pillar, you I hoist Pure skin my well intentioned hands mar Clumsily, I lean into a similar heart To discuss life and literature, fantasies these hands take too far How eloquent the silk you weave, which you impart Which inveigles and entices, cajole us into the city On pale page, the street lamps and dim moon, art Palpitations and liquor test the pity Of light and fire I cannot help but explore your shapely form And yet, without bar Across miasma, my guide is a cute little hand Solitude, the pulsations do doggedly solicit I just want to be close, you grant this Bewitched by the creamy satin of pale skin Distantly, warmly, I gaze in those God-given sculptures Of the richest green and azure hues, bespeak feminine Engaged in the other’s stare, two drunken apers The night, black as sin, The mould of outcome of we are the shapers And I shape regret that rises with the sun You come back vividly and lucidly Distant and opposite, worlds across, you from me A nondescript ghost in the corner Who speaks so placidly I remember with regret I remember with exultation I’ve ruined our relationship Our relationship topical felicitation I haven’t had time to apologize I haven’t had enough time with you If I ever see you again I’d mend everything I’d discover the girl behind the name And cleanse the projection askew. Love, Me Dear... .
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Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
A Poem for---
Dear... This haphazard poem was written solely for you Matterless, what you came garbed in Fever elicited, passion anew You’ve graced me, the repetition of ‘could-have-been’ I loved the way you speak Of knowledge and triumph And I, bumbling and meek Tirelessly I sought and now still seek Your council, your court For my amusement, for my sport Conversing over a poisoned well I listen in genuine Raise my voice Sing with my friends amongst the din Higher on the pillar, you I hoist Pure skin my well intentioned hands mar Clumsily, I lean into a similar heart To discuss life and literature, fantasies these hands take too far How eloquent the silk you weave, which you impart Which inveigles and entices, cajole us into the city On pale page, the street lamps and dim moon, art Palpitations and liquor test the pity Of light and fire I cannot help but explore your shapely form And yet, without bar Across miasma, my guide is a cute little hand Solitude, the pulsations do doggedly solicit I just want to be close, you grant this Bewitched by the creamy satin of pale skin Distantly, warmly, I gaze in those God-given sculptures Of the richest green and azure hues, bespeak feminine Engaged in the other’s stare, two drunken apers The night, black as sin, The mould of outcome of we are the shapers And I shape regret that rises with the sun You come back vividly and lucidly Distant and opposite, worlds across, you from me A nondescript ghost in the corner Who speaks so placidly I remember with regret I remember with exultation I’ve ruined our relationship Our relationship topical felicitation I haven’t had time to apologize I haven’t had enough time with you If I ever see you again I’d mend everything I’d discover the girl behind the name And cleanse the projection askew. Love, Me Dear... .
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jp-goss
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
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