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Honeysuckle
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All In Love The taste of the
Deceit
Of my own
Defeat
Is far too much like sugar--
I put it there
To dull the pain,
Suckled honey from the vein,
God, I'd like to drink
That rain.
Again.
God, I'd like to be a fool,
Be a tool.
Again.
Can't I use myself
To taste that wealth again?
Or will it bitter
Like sour leaves on my tongue...
Will it shrink to nothing
In the daylight sun?
My Eden,
Promised land of none
Is calling to my senses
One.
By.
One.
And yet I wonder,
What really...
Should I have done...?
I see you creatively examining the role of lost connection, it seems to me that you were in a place that evokes raw emotion, not merely a persona, but one of the prisoners of heartache.
I believe you clearly illustrate the crisis of desire for affection and the way that loss of that feeling is like having something inside you break until you feel as if you could cry.
Quite bit of poetry here, a range in which the verbiage layers up bit by bit to an exceptional vision, that when the dust had settled, you are on the top of the pyramid of perfect prose.
A feat that leaves me in awe...
Peace
Dylan
"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"
Dylan Eliot