monarch, chance encounter

i wish i learned how to let go from the get go
because i wouldn't have changed faces like a gecko.
her body was a temple i painted art deco,
i fell for her tempo it resonates like an echo.
i tremble at her tone yet her treble let alone
could break any heart made of stone.
she's known to play her part,
she's shown she can master it.
she hits every note,
she's dead accurate.
she's a natural when it comes to the art.
she's outsmart anyone even the likes of Descartes
and depart in the dark just to get a head start.
she's a work of art with beautiful quarks
that set apart the sharp remarks
with the monarch sparks
we shared that night we were in my parked car.
i swear you might be the most astounding star
i have ever found on my radar
but you are by far the very avatar
of a die-hard wild card.
are you barred in?
has the flower child outgrown her garden?
or were you just starving for a greater havest
when you carved out my carcass?
perhaps you're a Marxist
and my work wasn't up to par with your target market.
i thought a monarch was regarded as a god incarnate
yet your true colors were scarlet.
you weaved a web of lies like Charlotte.
have you achieved your dreams yet my darling starlet?
are you set on starring in a different light?
apart from all the starry nights, and sorry fights?
you're such a sorry sight when you hardly ever blink
at anything i say yet everything i think.

© Matthew Harlovic

Glass wasn't made to shatter;
Paper wasn't made to tear.
Fragmentation is a side effect of carelessness, not of life–
Not of love.
A rose is not meant to be crushed, pulled apart petal by petal, simply because it is soft.
The doe, graceful and wide-eyed, was not created to die at the hands of a man indistinguishable from a snake in the grass.
The monarch does not flutter with lithe wings to be caught, classified, and pinned to a page,
Nor do the leaves change hue, turn crisp, and fall to be crushed beneath an entitled foot.
I do not paint my eyes so that you can watch me bleed black and gold down my cheeks,
Nor do I wear my heart on my sleeve so that you can rip it apart valve by valve.
I am not your window pane, nor your blank page; your willow tree, nor your frozen stream.
I am the rabbit sleeping deep in her borough; I am the bluebird flitting between trees.
I may be fragile, but that doesn't give you permission to break me.

I may be a nobody to a somebody
I may be a nothing to that something
I may be that little ant to that big elephant
I may be a servant to that monarch
But,all I know is that someday....
I will be a somebody
I will be a something
I will be a big elephant
I will be a monarch
I will soon prove that SOMEDAY I will be a SOMEONE.

"I could have been yours."
A mental script that echos in her mind throughout her solitary nocturnal escapade.
A  combination of five simple words that is strong enough to freeze fire or liquefy a a neglected dream.
The perfect conclusion to justify a tragedy -
A tragedy so pure and so close to being a sunset-filled day in between the lines of a fanciful short story,
Yet it also cuts a beautiful outline of its history through her tongue.
It pierces through her skin like fangs of a tormented beast.
A carpet of shattered glasses rest under her bare feet,
He was not there to close the colossal distance that appeared in between.

It's getting easier to say goodbye to you.
Every time I migrate away from home to find warmth,
leave you behind in the cold,
I am taking back a piece of my soul
that I have left in your icy hands.
You still have the same hold, the same capture,
but I am learning that it's much easier
to keep my heart to myself.

29 years wasn’t long enough,
You tell me you miss him everyday.
1956 was the year of two lovers

I never knew him.
I wasn’t alive when the world took him.
But the family knows.

We know
The day his chest clenched and gave out,
Was the start to your spark going dim.

The eyes that gently
Reflected the glowing yellow-orange light
From the sun… set.

2. 43 years wasn’t long enough.
You tell me you miss her everyday.
1960 was the year a first child was born.

I knew her, she birthed me.
I was 9 when the world took her,
And I know.

I know
The day her body succumbed to the ***** needles and mix of pills,
Was when your spark went out.

The eyes that gently
Reflected the glowing white-dwarf light
From the stars… set.

3. No number of years could be long enough.
I tell you I love you everyday.
Every year is the year to celebrate the monarch,

To try to mend your pain.
Every wrinkle has a story
Your family wants to embrace and gain.

We need you to know that you still have today.
You still have tomorrow,
And we want to seize everyday.
Hurt is inevitable and pain makes us stronger.
You will never stop being the glue to our dentures.
Just grasp who you were before all the trenches.