Betwixt the episodes of dull exhaustion,
Between the gleaming shards of an imaginary life,
Beneath the spiderwebbed mirror of memory,
Before each dream cut like naked glass
Befallen from the gloaming of the underworld,
Beyond the glimmering cavern of illusion,
Bespoken by legion tongues of daemons
Belongs this poisoned curse,
I still believe,
In the one,
In the two,
In the ten thousand glittering things,
Beholden only to the frame
Of its shattered existence.
© 2024 Edward P. Morgan III
I liked you better
Before I knew you
Were a pedophile,
A murderer,
A rapist,
A thief.
Homophobic,
Antisemitic,
Sexist,
A bigot.
Liked is really
The wrong word.
Tolerated?
Accepted?
Admired?
Loved?
Or was I just
Mistaking
Attention,
Attraction,
Intrigue,
Or lust?
We reveal ourselves slowly,
Cautiously, seductively,
A shadow dance in seven veils,
Each slips or stripped away
Until all that remains is
An unrepentant scar,
Malignant as cancer,
Ugly as truth.
I no longer want to
Hang out with you,
Get to know you,
See you naked.
I just want to cover my eyes,
Hide from my misjudgment,
My shame at not seeing
Beyond your mask.
And yet, sometimes
I still miss the person
I thought might linger
Behind that illusion.
© 2024 Edward P. Morgan III
