Sunday, October 30, 2011

long lost to mercy

I followed her into every dream

I disowned because I fooled myself

into thinking there were second chances

how sweet and polite

being beauty and bred for deference

even as she played her beauty

on numberless rivals

none of whom meant anything to me

since I being older and useless

was exempt from the head butting

of young morons in heat of pride

I looked into each secret story

told in the hush of clandestine moments

stolen from the noisy awareness

of our society's nabobs and toll booth guards

the delusional clerks who quantify

lovers as easily as statistics on office workers

and their CEO bosses alike

we hid from them head to head

and defied their profiles their resentment

their desire to crush us under their thumbs

we hid in plain sight in our nakedness

invisible to the sensation seeking daily throng

it was now she praised my maturity

as I worshipped her youth and her beauty

she pleased I was too old to ruin anything with an advance

and I pleased I didn't have to try

better the deep sharing of souls

tender talk and tender embraces

and small stolen kisses against

blazing auroras of overactive suns

so easy now to let go of tiring lust

so much better to see the angelic soul

moving under the translucent skin

and reaching out through each opening

even as the eternal moment of joining fades

and what sustained in the moment

energizes for a few minutes

the memory preserving that only instant

our kisses our embraces

so long ago now there is nothing to say

except on nights like this

when she comes in a veil of folded mist

and the memory reactivates

and again I follow her in each dead fantasy

lost to mercy

and reliving this one and only shot

Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.

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