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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Written: September 2nd, 2025, for Contest Sponsored By Rob Carmack *********** You touched me with a selfish grace— a twist of tenderness, a lover’s rage wrapped in rubicund silk. We were prolific in our undoing, a clamor of glamor and grit, gargling truth through voracious nights while Asteria watched, her eyes full of truthful stars. I spat your name into the noosphere, where dreams go to die or be reborn. You were my doppelgänger ache, my endogenous flame, the replica of every archetype I tried to reject. We danced in the penumbra of joy, each step a pastiche of pulchritude and pain. You, emulous in your appetency, me, entranced with the miraculous ache of wanting more than the sum of us. I tried to winnow wisdom from the sage’s vade mecum, but found only flapdoodle and nephrology— diagnoses of hearts too full to beat clean. We were consanguineous in our chaos, a fulgent maelstrom of want and war. You regaled me with your Icarian truths, then shattered our quietude with a jussive whisper. I grokked your slipshod love, your generous lies, your sylphlike exits. Now I sojourn in the aftermath, a flaneur of our layered past, resiling from the squalor of memory with the pertinacity of a yokel who believes even nonsense can be fertile. Joy becomes the reward— not of peace, but of surviving the twist, the grabble, the glamor, the grief.
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