like pearls strewn across a tumbled lair
they drip from thy tongue
what thoughts can ever quite encapsulate
this LOVE that beats within thy chest?
You say the lover is mad,
I heartily agree, for thou art pretty,
but thou are no match for thee.
For thy love is beeyond the river of time,
it sinks like the sea and waves like a grain,
amber velvet and blond velour,
the patchwork of a maiden fare.
Thou once took thy bite, laying her down
in her grave of plenty, and each lifetime since
she has risen, only to fall.
Only to fall.
She rises,
only to fall.
Yet though she once fell, now she stands
stoic and proud,
wild and free,
daring and courageous,
armed to the teeth.
Her weapons are words
and water bottles.
She clutches at air
gasping, breathing deep,
a gentle purr, a pounce soft.
His claws retracted, he knows this drill.
It's a millennium-old routine.
Still, he sits in his home of distraction,
wishing she were there.
Yet all he ever has to do,
is turn off the tv.
“Thus I die. Thus, thus, thus.
Now I am dead,
Now I am fled,
My soul is in the sky.
Tongue, lose thy light.
Moon take thy flight.
Now die, die, die, die.”
― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream
Now I am dead,
Now I am fled,
My soul is in the sky.
Tongue, lose thy light.
Moon take thy flight.
Now die, die, die, die.”
― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream
