Blessed

The mirror in haloed light
lies, or is it these eyes?
Someone denies what distastefully
hides inside, unseen.

Hesitant to begin anew,
a dream of you
and me in an unhealthy hue
does not feel true.

Life's clutter diffuses
light from ailing sight.
I cannot see our future,
just this dead, still night.

Subterfuge consumes my head.
What do I dread;
from what you have plead?
I can’t hear.

an icy window
clamps cold shut

I digress
I am blessed
for ever having laid
eyes on you,
to have absorbed
the warmth of the softest fabric,
a sin to desire the pins
that prick.
Reality setting in.
I did not win,
as this wretched heart
climbs beyond this station
to the bluest skies
in your eyes.


9.13.2009

Soliloquey Before The Lovemaking   [ASR] #1160178 This is my ode to love -- tongue-in-cheek, of course. Do we really think this way? by Brian K Compton

~ a corpse poem living in the body of a former poem dweller. Or, is that a cyborg? Whatever life form, this is where "Blessed" lives now. It's old body dumped in the internet graveyard. Dust.