grief, poetry

Monster in Love

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He had fed

On battlefield blood,

Watched twisted engines,

Cut scars into the earth,

He had sat at the feet of

Ashen gods and beautiful monsters,

And watched the light flee,

The eyes of a million different

Beauties and when she came,

She did not fear him,

Saw through the alien actions

To the ceaseless sweet play

Beneath,

He had sold the castle,

Sent the brides away,

They chose matching coffins,

Planned her perfect eternity,

And the first night,

She fed him as much

As he fed her,

She left a note,

Keener on the life,

Of violent independence,

Than the eternity he thought,

He found himself pinned,

To a moment of perpetual,

Agony and when he walks,

To the park,

Dressed formal and sharp,

She made him give up

The cape and so he wears

A cravat, comb marks in

His widows peak.

The sun hasn’t forgotten him,

And as he folds his hands

In his lap,

He finds the flames,

Hurt less than her

Absence.

The sun washes him away

Like chalkmarks

But the chocolate labrador,

Sniffs the sadness and cocks his leg

Against the bench

Smoke coils into

A fresh park morning,

The dog told no one

But listen,

Don’t tell the cats,

They’ve no restraint

For the inherent privacies

Of tragedy

 

 

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