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Click hereThere was once a girl
who spoke to him in riddles
and played innocently
while the onlooker
imagined her as
the tidy, clean, joyous
and slightly dark, wet
dream of his imagination.
Somewhere, a changeling,
magnificent and desirous,
understood him as God
and led him into
one pure and simple belief
of the goodness of life,
inspiring in him songs,
leading people to
worship and praise,
much to his dismay.
She grew up into life
and somehow changed
into a liar and whore
who deserted love
after years of apathy
from her beloved God
or worse, by his moods
in which he said such things
as "Just die, already."
She was the Muse,
she was the one who loved,
uncontrolled and impiously,
at the seat of belief
that in understanding him
and in feeling the same as he,
she might inspire in him desire
to one day want her in his life.
Still she waits, hopelessly,
on that improbable day
when the Myth will explode
and the real woman
will be wanted.
And in the meanwhile,
listens for his new words
of her Mythic existence
now all pain in his head.
look into the shadow worlds of hope and dreams and despair.
Love is always a double edged sword
Inherent in accepting it is accepting the pain it brings.
So sad and bitter sweet.
But we do need to be reminded of it.
Thank you for sharing
didn't work for me the way some of your others have. You tell the tale here rather than show me. I think if you worked on presenting concrete images it would work better poetically. You tell me about the myth girl instead of showing me what she was like, making me feel the emotion instead of telling me about it. An interesting, tragic tale.
jim : )