Tag Archives: revere

Diesis

i revere you

with clenched jaws

grinding bones

scream, scream

.

ulysses defeated

a sisyphean darling

crushed by mere pebble

and then over again

.

arcana uncovered

red eyes and whitecaps

cigarettes after dark

hypanthium reborn

.

or apoplectic laughter

in a shockwave cadenza

and a swindled affair

wet milk and ballet

.

luxuries losing out to

sensationalism and

tabloid embolism, finding

adverts for martyrdom

.

black flies swarming

on the gloom of my

eyelids, lithium to fend

off the vulgar answer

.

saving the worst for last

submerge all the colours

to confess before the lie

here comes the hurricane

.

yes, i revere you with a

ruthless antagonism

but to love you, mon cherie?

i wouldn’t ever dare.

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in which love is just another imagined story by a hopeless writer who has dysgraphia

“and though to my arms you are forever lost,
you are a prisoner in my fantasy.”

~Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz

~*~

you are my sweetest fiction,

conjured, derived from the very ends of

the lacklustre impediment

that is my algid imagination.

light calla lips flushed pleasantly

(though, i may only be imagining it so)

elusive soul a taunting fugitive

(from which i could never hope to catch

with bare hands and bare feet)

cerise smile melting upon liquid gaze

before i then realise—the blood was my own.

missing birthdays, unsent letters

piling into sealed dictionaries upon my oaken desk

and again, i weep the night sky

in the grievous absence of your starlight.

falling, falling; lilies, lilies,

plucked like shimmering innocence

from the skin of my gritted teeth, sighing

irreplaceable—!

though, your divine body is not mine

to ruin and revere relentlessly

under eternal storybooks and lost volumes of

anthologies, the empty pages

all at once interjecting: “impossible?!”

but, is it always so? must my fluttering shyness

be short-lived like your tyranny?

surely we must not always adore the

blinking butterflies, cascading iridescence

billowing solemnly into my reverie—

accidental interruption.

aralias, aralias; painful, painful;

i am to dirty fly as you are to decadent fruit

dragged down rather cruelly into

the ad infinitum of your fiery veneration

and i am unable to twist my words into cathartic

crashing, collapsing, holding it in…

but, i do not mind at all; for i lost mine

the moment you slipped from enthrallment into

the ache of my charismatic sternum,

submerging me in pacific oceans of desire—

enchantingly alluring me into the cozen, shackling confines

of the prison you call your heart.

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Filed under Poetry, Valentines Poetry