And now I see well beyond your sword,
your armed perfection.
It was my fault: in you I saw my reflection.
But no more: I’ve cupped your face too many times
and drank your lips too many times – I was nowhere in that cup.
There was only you:
dressed in carmine jealousy,
reciting spleeny poetry,
recycling it all into amour,
clanging your armor.
The day I knew you were a barking portrait I laughed myself to your death.
No more words embroidered with moss, I said.
No more shouting all the names of nonsense
or seeing omens in lights that bleed yellow, green and red.
For that, I’m always in my debt.
DELUDEND was originally published on Rat’s Ass Review, Love and Ensuing Madness Collection, August 5, 2016
ⓒ Basilike Pappa