Old poem I wrote a long time ago.
A mere flicker sets my icy breast ablaze,
A flash of eyes through me is a longing gaze.
A melody washes through my throbbing limbs,
Pooling tears do not disfigure the vision of him.
I cry to the shadows of the moonless night,
Awaiting my love on his passionate flight;
Naught but a fancy is my love, fire red,
Courtship never living lies ashy and dead.
The golden-specked eyes set within his brow
See through more than my heart can allow;
Nothing more than a warm breath of cool wind,
I whisper and caress my devotion to him;
Blind of his guardian’s protecting embrace,
He holds himself victor of the forsaken race.
I hold his apparition to my hollow, dead stem,
Envisage a passion that was not condemned-
He pulls me from my endless torrent of pain
And shields my eyes from the stinging of rain;
Whets my thirst and bathes my blood-hardened crust-
I am deceiving my heart with fabrication of lust.
I lay dying beside him and pray to Eros-
Poison grips my cold heart, he remains as morose.
Creation, destruction, the essence of fate,
The maker of grief, I despise and I hate.
Wrath of great Hera is a venomous fang,
Love for unseeing eyes is an unworthy pang.
As eternal as the sparkling stars up above,
As false as my destiny, I curse this glass love.
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