Gross exertion, infatuation
Flagellating the root
Of embellished insecurity
Begging for a meal of ashes
Early morning pain, infatuation
A ****** companion's invective
Reminder of our unworthiness
As we consort with teardrops
Inquisitor's interview, infatuation
Smiling torture chamber
Turning idly in hand the implements
That will extract the truth of our ugliness
Gravedigger's labor, infatuation
Burying our faces in clenching fists
Knowing our hearts have finally done it
And sold us out for a smile
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
Gross exertion, infatuation
Flagellating the root
Of embellished insecurity
Begging for a meal of ashes
Early morning pain, infatuation
A ****** companion's invective
Reminder of our unworthiness
As we consort with teardrops
Inquisitor's interview, infatuation
Smiling torture chamber
Turning idly in hand the implements
That will extract the truth of our ugliness
Gravedigger's labor, infatuation
Burying our faces in clenching fists
Knowing our hearts have finally done it
And sold us out for a smile
Despite love's beauty, a crush can be quite painful. I named this poem in a miasma of self-pity on the subject, so I tried to make sure the title embodied that ugliness by being somewhat unsightly and awkward itself. Perhaps this was an artistic mistake, but I suspect I'll live. Thanks for reading!
© Copyright 2014 C. H. Watson. All rights reserved.
