![]() the cliche's soliloquy pour vousA Poem by Amorette Duvannes
I haven't had this clump,
Mangled thorns and running Reams tear-blue sky Since I last loved you. I am a mute since then, And then, and then, The tombstone words Fell out of my mouth Like ash down a well, Or a witch and her spell, The deceived, conceived The same red way. I slept on springs, jumping Roar, belching night, Because then I could feel, Could feel you. That's what they all say, To pain and to love and to Hand-in-glove. Make it work, Unless he's your teacher. Imagine falling in love with God, Derobing he who made you you, Imagine f*****g Death. Imagine the doornail in your neck. I'm stopping with the glories, The head-hurting, new remedies To thought. Cliches it is. I'm going to roar the cliches. When it came down to it, I loved you, loved me, Loved we. You you you, My lovers stew, mouthful on the pew. I confused cocaine with kisses, Cholera with lust, Ah, I was really quite naive, I, How it rips, oh my. I knew I was silly then. I wore it like a title, I was so proud to be so unfulfilled, It gave me something to aspire to. I ruined a lot of things, too, Not least of them myself, And because I was all I had, I was all torn. All alone, a torn paper baby. I couldn't go back to my mother, It killed to suck my own breast, And my teacher, the last of my Shape-shifters, didn't want me. I could have spoken up, Bleeted a lamb's apology, I'm sure you'd have welcomed me into your herd. I didn't want to be a title. I didn't want another drowning Or flamboyancy Or language, I wanted to be correctly fitted, A mitten pour vous.
© 2015 Amorette Duvannes |
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Added on February 18, 2015 Last Updated on February 18, 2015 Tags: poetry, dream, romance, poem, poems, love, love poems, love poem, love poetry Author
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