#heros - Hello Poetry

You gave me a chance, all those years ago, just once — but I chose to follow a dream. You offered up yourself to me, asked I enter in the labyrinth and choose, but I passed you up for a dream. Broken still, I wander in that haunted afternoon, when you returned to the balcony, barefoot with a *** of tea. You’d brushed your hair again, standing there, where moonlight might have been; awkward as teens, we sat and sipped, the red glare of sunset dying in your eyes; one button — left unbuttoned on your blouse — held its breath; the scent of magnolia and ambrette, just refreshed, yearning for one last compliment. I watched you bend, and light each candle, one by one, to dance and flicker on your toes painted red as burgundy, waiting for some response from me — oh, little bird, alone, courting small talk, your clock chiding on the bedroom door, while I delay in the deepening mountain shadows. You asked me only once, gave me just one chance to wrestle with the Minotaur, but I turned away and bargained on a dream. With a second glance that lingered for a second more, still, you invited me, just once, opened up a stretch in time, as women do, just long enough for him to step through — but he was taken and accounted for, in thrall to a dream. You reached for me, one riddle at a time, standing between the Choiceless Choice and a dream — just one chance was given me to let my world come crashing down, and give up all my certainties; yet, I could not bring myself to love such a thing of flesh and blood, and so I did what I must do: I took your chance, given only once, and settled for the dream of you.

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Apr 27

Apr 27, 2026 at 2:17 AM UTC

Glintspear

A Dream

You gave me a chance, all those years ago, just once — but I chose to follow a dream. You offered up yourself to me, asked I enter in the labyrinth and choose, but I passed you up for a dream. Broken still, I wander in that haunted afternoon, when you returned to the balcony, barefoot with a *** of tea. You’d brushed your hair again, standing there, where moonlight might have been; awkward as teens, we sat and sipped, the red glare of sunset dying in your eyes; one button — left unbuttoned on your blouse — held its breath; the scent of magnolia and ambrette, just refreshed, yearning for one last compliment. I watched you bend, and light each candle, one by one, to dance and flicker on your toes painted red as burgundy, waiting for some response from me — oh, little bird, alone, courting small talk, your clock chiding on the bedroom door, while I delay in the deepening mountain shadows. You asked me only once, gave me just one chance to wrestle with the Minotaur, but I turned away and bargained on a dream. With a second glance that lingered for a second more, still, you invited me, just once, opened up a stretch in time, as women do, just long enough for him to step through — but he was taken and accounted for, in thrall to a dream. You reached for me, one riddle at a time, standing between the Choiceless Choice and a dream — just one chance was given me to let my world come crashing down, and give up all my certainties; yet, I could not bring myself to love such a thing of flesh and blood, and so I did what I must do: I took your chance, given only once, and settled for the dream of you.