The Almost Marriage - Poem by Amy Marie
Our deep blue Crystals of Eyes
Allow their sunny and smiling gazes
To touch: This is our Destiny
Carved out in Golden Stone.
I – Suicide himself am.
Commit me you nearly do
At your wide open window of Night.
Freedom's moon oversees you doll up.
Your curvy slim frame you drape
In pale white: Freely flowing
In Privacy's Autumn Breeze.
Your sheer white curtains copy
And sway to the song sung between
Conformity and Nonconformity.
Freedom's moon stifles her
Smirk: Silent – Silver – and Seductive like me.
Leaves conceal themselves. They crackle their
Crispy brown bodies as they drift down
To dirt and you – Eccentric –
Are pregnant with Envy herself.
I stand well-dressed in my
Black Suit – wait to catch
You – and sweep you away –
As I did with my father – Destiny!
Your Yellow Candle flickers in your window
Among the Dark and 'stars'
Lack Originality's vibrant wings by copying them.
Freedom's moon fades and
Turns her Black Back on such
Childish mimicry. Fireflies flash and
Keep 'chirping' insects company.
Your heart bleeds for the
Unbearable fact that they're unreachable
and Unpredictable. Your old wooden floor –
Creaks – beneath your – stone-cold feet –
Almost – Rejecting – Their Emptiness –
Inevitably – You are:
Itching – twitching –
Aching – breaking –
Sighing – dying –
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