when trust has been betrayed there is no venom lost..
Early on
I told you
in a most intimate moment
that my branches break off easily
and when they do I am sapped dry
and heartblood drained from me
will fan the glow,
and all my flames will turn
the one I love to ashes
you wiped the hair out of your face
and smiled
just smiled..
Words shimmered
in those oblivion days
like richest tapestry,
a gobelain of mesmeric colors
a hunting scene, a floating swan
a knight in shining armor, a virgin fair
undying love and all 'for ever's'
said so smoothly, slipping like sweet wine
and giving me to know that
when tomorrow comes your devotion
would be as lasting
as the Bayeux tapestry
studied hand in hand
the day before the moment
when you smiled
that 'we are forever' smile.
I muse and mull now
angrily stemming the flow again
where limbs and branches have been stripped
and lacerated heart effuses.
How could I be so taken in
why could I not recognize
that wanting you to be so perfect
hid the real you?
It is as if you slipped
the tapestry right off the wall
and wrapped me up inside
the weave of dreams
I of myself had imposed on you
and smothered me in the 'now' of passion,
preempting all my questions
with a dazzling smile,
weakening my knees
and kicking my pulse in overdrive
with all your skin-churning skills.
You stole my body
and in exchange for all those words,
you pawned my passion cheaply,
robbed my nights of sleep
and ripped my sole protection carelessly
the way a marigold
is plucked by would be lovers
a leaf a time.
You never wanted me
I was the means for your aggrandizement
you are an omnivore of hearts
discarder of personality
and the shredder of my spirit.
Broken now
my flames unleashed
incineration comes your way.
In one intimate moment days ago
I told you that my flames of love
will turn the one to ashes
who breaks my branches off
and makes me bleed.
I've built your pyre carefully,
the gobelains been drenched
with all the incandescent tears I had
and the fireworks of passion you so spurned
will surely scorch your careless soul
and you will know, for once
the meaning of 'forever'.
I'll go and flush the ashes later.
I am a little tired now,
the memory of passion
sapping still.
Poetry by Teddy Donobauer
Read 543 times
Written on 2007-07-03 at 07:17
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Pain
Early on
I told you
in a most intimate moment
that my branches break off easily
and when they do I am sapped dry
and heartblood drained from me
will fan the glow,
and all my flames will turn
the one I love to ashes
you wiped the hair out of your face
and smiled
just smiled..
Words shimmered
in those oblivion days
like richest tapestry,
a gobelain of mesmeric colors
a hunting scene, a floating swan
a knight in shining armor, a virgin fair
undying love and all 'for ever's'
said so smoothly, slipping like sweet wine
and giving me to know that
when tomorrow comes your devotion
would be as lasting
as the Bayeux tapestry
studied hand in hand
the day before the moment
when you smiled
that 'we are forever' smile.
I muse and mull now
angrily stemming the flow again
where limbs and branches have been stripped
and lacerated heart effuses.
How could I be so taken in
why could I not recognize
that wanting you to be so perfect
hid the real you?
It is as if you slipped
the tapestry right off the wall
and wrapped me up inside
the weave of dreams
I of myself had imposed on you
and smothered me in the 'now' of passion,
preempting all my questions
with a dazzling smile,
weakening my knees
and kicking my pulse in overdrive
with all your skin-churning skills.
You stole my body
and in exchange for all those words,
you pawned my passion cheaply,
robbed my nights of sleep
and ripped my sole protection carelessly
the way a marigold
is plucked by would be lovers
a leaf a time.
You never wanted me
I was the means for your aggrandizement
you are an omnivore of hearts
discarder of personality
and the shredder of my spirit.
Broken now
my flames unleashed
incineration comes your way.
In one intimate moment days ago
I told you that my flames of love
will turn the one to ashes
who breaks my branches off
and makes me bleed.
I've built your pyre carefully,
the gobelains been drenched
with all the incandescent tears I had
and the fireworks of passion you so spurned
will surely scorch your careless soul
and you will know, for once
the meaning of 'forever'.
I'll go and flush the ashes later.
I am a little tired now,
the memory of passion
sapping still.
Poetry by Teddy Donobauer
Read 543 times
Written on 2007-07-03 at 07:17
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
