Ingénue Paramour

I watched her from afar, the intricate melody
that bore soul and rhythm into listless hours
remixed by shortened susurrous reminders
of dramas to be the centre of deep affections.

She flickered in light, ephemeral to the touch,
yet more radiant than a thousand suns lingering
in clear nights and black penumbras promises,
I fell in love with each word she whispered

into screaming silence, the cacophony
of human interaction simmered down to letters.
She became the face of all my fugacious words
and I would have sacked Troy ten thousand times

to claim her as my own, but old crones hold the storms,
and I had no more honesty to her demesne
than the Gods she defied with spirit rekindled,
only beleaguered dreams to die inside her.

When she came close my body ached with denouement
for more than the tryst of swift emotions locked
into proposed temporal teardrops, impermanent elixirs
drained to droplets of dulcet desuetude.

Would she see me with chatoyant vision
if Rome fell before her feet? Soldiers all in a row,
with efflorescence halcyon to have us at her whim,
her panoply of hearts, lingering and redolent.

By sempiternal lagoons, I saw her bathe in love,
reimagining the strongest tenderness all around
her deiform naked form, fetching and evocative,
she waved her spell throughout my judgements.

I was week, and she was absorption born of heaven,
what stronger man could have met deliverance
with such intrigue? Would they carry her away on forbearance
lamented in emollient contradictions?

As eldritch fever took to winds with a special kind of gift,
the plethora of insanity inched around her lithe fragile neck
and I held my breath, I held my breath… I held my breath…
In pastiche hallucinations where petrichor scent conflate.

The becoming of dalliances plagued in brooding death,
she waits for me forevermore in demure and denouement
with each ethereal and evanescent breath,
in lissom grave garments, veneration and rippled theft.

kylieminoguewherethewildrosesgrowvideo

Poem © Phen Weston 2015

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2 thoughts on “Ingénue Paramour

  1. Um… Wow…
    Wordidge to new degrees of referencing and class writing, epic grade!

    I would burn this world to ash
    And take my heart to such depths
    As only the devil knows
    To have but one moment with my love

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