Etude II

Etude II

A Poem by Moi
"

The stuff three-in-the-morning is made of.

"

Puberty sets an uneven stage,

you were a great storming bush,
sifting your identity between your roses and your thorns.
 
Where in my life
I just begun to speak like pubes
you had exploded magnificently in yours,
 
(I thought you were brave for streaking)
Livewire, livewire;
 
frightened by your joking coos,
I thought you understood the language of my whimpers.
The Morse code of batted lashes.
“Ravish me?”
I thought you deciphered my pallor when
 
I was convinced you kept me
somewhere in your taut chest.
Your blue eyes.
Lulling with the vibrations of your voice
deeper and stronger than mine
(by a year).
Waking up abashed from a dream of a tryst in a rose garden.
You rushed up against me:
 
you called me “honey.”
 
You deluged me, I was sopping.
When we are overwhelmed we love?
 
I couldn’t budge, I kept quiet
and munched in the dark of a closet
on the crumbs of your coquettery.
O! the seeds of your flirtations
outgrew my wits, fertilized by your smile and my self-denial.
 
And when I broke through,
sick of clutching pillows to simulate your bosom,
when Eros gave me the romantic tourettes
 
you laughed it off,
and fought the moment with platitudes the girls must’ve heard,
and swam away.
 
But now, my voice is the lower. But now,
all that glitters is not just your eyes.
It is gone. What happened?

You grew dull and distant. And though
misunderstanding bred my singing,
'tis now wisdom who carries the notes.

© 2008 Moi


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Sad how some must play with the emotion of love as a weapon to bash the heart with at the moment it wants to bloom. Your poem suggests that you somehow knew you were being toyed with and tried to avoid showing your growing emotion to the object of your eyes for fear that what you knew would be a reality. But at some point you let it reveal itself...and you got hurt. This is good for expressing the futility known and yet cast aside in the hopes you were wrong...but, alas, were not. Makes you gun shy, doesn't it? Take care.

Posted 16 Years Ago


Well written. Especially that last stanza. How completely poetic. Kudos.

Posted 16 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on July 5, 2008
Last Updated on July 5, 2008

Author

Moi
Moi

About
I have a head of spiral staircases, ten goofy fingers, and delicious mud-pie eyes. I try to write a little bit of everything, don't we all? more..

Writing
Plasir d'Amour Plasir d'Amour

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