My Love Affair For You

If a stranger dares to read
the words tattooed upon this page,
it should be known that never
was the vocabulary I instruct
like an orchestra, designed to fill
their heads, but the mind
of one particular damsel, and Ma’am,
you know who its is you are.
Wrought iron could perhaps pull
those eyes of yours towards
my lonely heart, so for once
you might just notice me,
rather than viewing a vacant space.
But how could this ever be?
Broke; boyfriend; beyond
my reach; yeah, you’re my type.
A city gal from the north east
suburbs, swept up in the anarchy
of life, the swift switchblade
of political opinion never ceasing
to blow apart the softness
of your desperate youth.
With a history of abuse
and neglect, alongside an upbringing
that tastes similar to my own,
you might just happen to get me,
if only I had your attention.
Looking at your bruises now,
some shinier than others,
I find myself beyond surprised
your sanity has remained intact.
If however, I were to say I love you,
would you fling the flowers
I bestow upon you at my feet;
would you be unable to notice beauty
in a world you believe
to be quite damned? If I were beautiful
like Christy Mack; if I could dance
like Louis Spence; if I could write
like Alfred Tennyson; if I were heroic
like General Norman Schwarkopf;
would any of this matter? You,
who are always so difficult to please,
and like a book, its pages stuck together,
so difficult to read,
the languages you speak being barely
comprehensible, despite our vernacular
being the same. You, who is often
sleeping with another man
when I have the urge to hold you
in my arms, and place my lips
on yours. You, who disappears
so suddenly, like fumes, but reappears
like a rainbow once I have
pushed you like a pimple,
out from beneath my skin. I however
would never wish to close my eyes
and dream myself away,
to a universe absent of your existence,
for I long to have you
serenade me to sleep with the melody
of a monogamous affair. I would ravish
so happily, the remains
of your affection, molded by the sand
storms parading through the halls
of time, your life, a combination
of events our of your control.
But when my eyes travel
over every inch of you,
from the curvature of your ankle
to the blossoming follicles
in your hair, there is no part of you
not worthy of sanctuary
and preservation in my heart,
for every time I look at you,
my ears are listening to Heaven.
Along the way to the destination,
entombed at the ending
of this piece of poetry, I adopted
the words of better men
to best describe my feelings,
each of which I have made my own
from the uniqueness
of my love affair for you.

About totalovrdose

I am an online journalist, video game reviewer, mental health advocate and post graduate university student. I am a massive video gaming geek; a lover of intellectual conversations; an award winning procrastinator; a devilishly charming nuisance and the definition of 'fun' (sometimes). My blog is filled with many a soporific love poem, and is simply the beginning in my quest to become a published author. Please stop by and say 'Hi!' (that rhymes!) :D

Posted on July 15, 2014, in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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