An Architect Wearing a Poet’s Guise

Poetry on love and anger – Enjoy, folks.

Summer Solstice

Last night,

I dreamed of unrequited love:
Soft, glowing, shimmering and present –

Presently

I feel you no more;
It is as if you have disappeared, vanished and faded.

Faded

Were the days I dreamed of loving you –
Lost in my imagination you were

Mine.

Captured,
Caught,
Smitten.

Mine to hold, to curse, to admire –
You were mine
to dream.

20130729-131103.jpg

Burned

I have felt every ounce of anger
oozing from my pores like melted honey.

Weeping the tears, warm and slow, of disappointment, chagrin.

I have swallowed the poisonous pill of guilt,
ingesting that internal suicide.

You are the mime-game I play:
The death of silent remorse.

Hot, searing honey,
as if melted by frying pan,

Cooks,
Boils,
Peaks.

I am spilling over, vomiting the pain of familiarity.

Raging in my soul like warm honey,
beating in my chest like wicked rhythm,
clamoring in my toes like disease,

I feel my rage through and through.

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