Age, Archaically

I wrote this poem after my first real love (after much leading me on, may I add) denied me because of age difference. I was 17. She was 25.

We are fields

Gardens

Bodies embellished in the décor of light

Tended to but suffering the growth of blight

Marinating in their physical age.

Depict me,

Body.

Carve me unto a statue, paint abstract art of my soul

See into the depths of my mind, it’s impossible

To escape me from the womb that limits my mature mind.

Touch me, it’s wrong

A subtle crime amplified in an adult’s mind

Tortures then kills an emotional bind

Age, archaically.

Or should be,

With me.

I could disguise you,

Body.

Paint you and decorate you like the norm

Prove to you that I can.

What does it change?

Nothing.

Unfortunately.

We won’t justify me

It hurts too much and we accept that pride

When you stare at my bright eyes, amplified by the consequences

And close your eyes, close your mind

To me, archaically.

Author's Note

Why, yes, this is about another woman.

Reviews

[Adan W. Kouts]

Well I didn't got a few words but it sounds pretty deep 2 me ^^
BTW I loved your way of writting

[icelandicblue]

Quite a beautiful depiction of our impending demise that begins with our first breath.

I like your title a lot. When one ages one can become "old" in both mind and body but some of that can be put off for some time if one takes the time to soften the blows.

What doesn't help is covering it up as you stated here:

I could disguise you,

Body.

Paint you and decorate you like the norm

Prove to you that I can.

What does it change?


Nothing.

Unfortunately.


For an inhabitant always knows, whether the outside world does or not. We are always at some juxtaposition with our selves, the young want to look more mature and the more mature want to look younger.

This is a very well written poem.

icelandic blue

[oxo]

creative. and nice structure. :)