Esther............(6) Poem by Gabe Mendoza

01/14/18
O, child. The hour is upon us, and as you know: The Reaper waits for no one.
If I were to give you my tainted heart & soul, spare their life and take mine.
I lived this life with absolute carelessness, unconcerned with yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
Is it within one's power to control their fate, the winds of destiny taking them to their place?
Is life, "A Dream within a Dream." Everything in our grasp turns to dust, by the sands of sorrow?

Under this tree of ours, with candy canes and ornaments, the Fair Youth is losing this race.
For all the life you have given me, I could never hold it close enough to keep The Hideousness far away.
The Summer sun that lights your face, the Autumn air I breathe in, Winter buries where dark hearts lay.
I loved her like your father loved your mother. When all things come to perish, she lives on. Long live on.

As the DaWn approaches on this hour, I heard her favorite song play on the radio: LoVe is not an illusion.

02/02/18
~~~~~~YoU~~~~~~~
All of the king's men, and his white knights: No one puts me into bed like you!
None have dared to write me letters, saying I was their favorite flower.
Alone in my bed, I write this to the Gods. Close to my bosom, I shall honor thou.
The candles flicker by the window, when will he come and deliver?

Remember, over the summer, when you wrote in 6-line verses?
Hey, You. Here's mine: My heart sings in high octave measures!
~~~~~HeR~~~~~~~
And what's this voice I hear. Is it the one from My Dear?
No. That can't be. She said that all I do is bring The Drear.
Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter:
I think you should know, I heard every one of them.

Where do we go from here? This I told her.
In my 6-line verse, her voice carries on in this poem.

02/04/18
How will I start this verse, when it's the same old tired lines?
All of my days were cursed, TiMe having shown its deformities.
What's old in me revived itself in you, this much I knew.
Here I sit, beside the window. Within my view was a JeW.

The rays of the sun sparking inner youth,
The falling rain that caught a new breath,
The snowflakes shaped like Christmas wreaths,
The changing leaves that spoke many truths:

Inside of my heart that died, I never thought I'd hear it cry.

Wisdom and experience have taught me this is temporary,
The effects of LoVe at first sight will eventually wear itself out.
But what if it has not? So many forget this is what it is about:
No matter the years that go by, LoVe sees endless possibilities.

My pretty Jew sits in the clouds that form skull and bones,
Until one day I leave this window-show her how I cried & cried.

02/05/18
She's my mysterious lover, any other tale it'd be: My Mistress.
In order for her to be a Mistress, I would have to have her undressed.
If she were my Mistress, then I be a player. No women have I caressed.
All I do is write her letters, marvel at her art that's her nakedness.

The red of her hair is what I adore, when it's paired with the brown of her eyes.
She's not like ordinary JeWs, akin to Germans having blonde hair and blue eyes.
My pretty JeW, when she walks my heart trembles. In soft paces her feet form sonnets.
She wasn't how Mistresses be. She'd rather keep to herself, underneath the brim of hats.

I was fooled to think that is who she is. I saw her come HoMe with a man one time, nevermore.
For this I wrote these poems. A Mistress belongs to many, corrupting men's hearts everywhere.
Year after year, season after season, in many months, I gave the girl of my dreams a flower,
To let her know that if TiMe doesn't permit us to meet, my words I hope she will remember.

"A Mistress." They were all wrong, their words invading my heart, soul, and mind.
Amid the disputes that we had, sometimes I wonder if she wanted this: A boyfriend.
It was hard to tell, when in secret we couldn't talk. If my lips were to move, would she listen?
If a boyfriend is what she wanted, I'm not sure I can be. By now my words must have stricken.

Should I retire from penning my affections for she, then let this piece of paper say:
Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. These are the songs I used to play on any day.

02/06/18
I heard her call to me in the middle of the night; somehow I was always late.
On these cold winter nights, these two High School kids never went on a date.
The night was still young, not a person to be seen, and that was when I fell into silent screams.
Clouded by memories of the past, I thought I'd let this go, for my pretty JeW is better in dreams.

Why is this so, I questioned her once: How is it that two people can be so close yet far apart?
Our dilemma isn't the same as his or hers, maybe for this: Being too close causes discomfort.
There are many theories for why this is; I'm done with my heart wanting to know.
Let this love-sickened boy heal again, shoot fate in the eyes with a bow and arrow.

O why is it, why, I must be plagued with this? I'll never be the perfect son who's now a man.
No kids for me, or a wife. I don't own fancy things, or keep a large network of friends.
Where is the value to any of it, when it can be purchased, and this is what makes us human?
My tears have fallen, to watch those closest go; I'm tired of a heart that bends & folds.

In the middle of the night, I can still hear her sing. Her voice will keep me forever a prisoner.
I'll wait forever, when forever isn't promised to anyone. Goodbye, EsThEr: This is my letter.