Launchorasince 2014
← Stories

Heartache in Archaic

Thou art the view

 outside my window,

but not the view

 in my own meadow.

Thou art the spectacular ray--

 o' light ev'ry mornin',

But thou only--

 wake me up for nothin'.

A part o' me wants

 to savor thy presence.

Thou, alone, give strength

 to my exhausted resilience.

A part o' me wants

 to caress and explore thy skin.

 Kindly enshroud me

 in that curtain made o' satin.

A part of me longs

 for thy touch, a divine friction!

Thou art ev'ry nailed needle

 in this acupunctural crucifixion.

Losing ev'ry piece of thee

 marks a bloody retrogression!

Loving thee may be a sin but--

 I'd rather be engulfed

 by thy sweet corruption.

Thou may not be mine;

Thou may be the smoke 

comin' out o' my chimney,

the waste excreted 

by my kidney;

But thou, my unwrinkled stardust,

 will ne'er be 

an epitome o' repulsion.

Thy gravitation

 will ne'er be

 an expulsion;

 Thou, alone,

art the static attraction

 to my irreversible introversion!