Poetic Interlude XXXI

A guest poem, by a charming creature, N. It made me cry. Enjoy.

I am not antiqued.

I am not scented
With the brooding must and stature
Of ages,
Or the crushed femininity of Roses.

I do not sway
Under the heavy, topical purr
Of velvet,
Or the pomp of a heel.

I do not
That archetype
Of kohl-eyed waiting, of swollen-red

I am
This time around.

I smell of warm honey,
Of citrus, vanilla,
and lime.

I rove
More than saunter.

And prefer exploration-
However impractical-
To the combined knowledge of
The World’s faded Lovers.

I, too
Am at a loss to explain
How it is that you love me.

About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
This entry was posted in Poetic Interludes and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Have something to say, darling? Don't be shy!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s