In the Throes of Dying Love
In the Throes of Dying Love
In the throes of dying love, you’re a
fallen angel, with no celestial saving grace.
Rose-tinted glasses shattered, you’re no longer
my hero, just a stark-naked zero.
You besmirch every passing season
that we shared…hacking them down,
one by one, like ugly unwanted weeds
in your garden. And my hope for a new you
faded with the waning silver of the moon.
You’ve lost your lissome, school-boy charms;
and the power to pinion me with your cold,
mesmerizing eyes, those squinting black holes
that once sucked me in…trying to suffocate me.
Your love is just as phony as your
painted-on smile, and that old forged,
water-color painting of a loving couple,
that I found buried under dust
and cobwebs in the attic.
But as that ancient, worn-out sun sinks to repose,
in the dense, oblivion of dark firmament,
so has our sojourn ended…and I’ve forgotten
why I loved you in the first place.
Sadly, like that cheap wedding ring you bought me,
you’re irrelevant…in the throes of dying love.
05-22-2018
Contest: Eight Word Challenge – 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Placement: 3rd
8 Words: throes, celestial, besmirch, pinion, lissome, repose, firmament, sojourn
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