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divider of love and envy
| Critical Analysis #1 |
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divider of love and envy |
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Elizabeth Cor Senior Member
since 2000-10-13
Posts 879Over the river and through the woods 
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One more and that's it for the week... Divider of the enchanted forest, wakes the lilies to brilliance with these same hands: stubby, spoiled, toilet grime around the nails, scar from a wart frozen off. I kneaded love into your back when we were still drinking sweetness off each other Angry, and stuffed with young excuses I drove out your possibility And I am frightened of the great disease: that you know symptom and cure If I could hush the dragons in my head, I would And I might cheat my fear and demand you back, if I could But maybe my madness has finally exhausted you to the core And there were promises that I ravaged, And there is grief I can’t outgrow And I’m sorry that I broke your ideals instead of your heart So I loved you for your brilliance, your charm, the cryptic temper you insisted upon (and swore that only I could crawl beneath) And now, for those same reasons, I am taken with envy full to the point of hate My dreams remember your voice... damn blatant perfection. I drop one eye open to diamonds: tears stunted on my eyelashes with the snap of wake-fall. I flex legs against the sweat in my sheets nonnoticing swirls in my ears of the push pull of my lungs and the empty shout of dust slanted over the sunlight. I am the living contradiction, the idiot concave. Oh, god, Pete. Sharp recall and the dull, hard punches at my chest. I have tried to accept, perhaps, your disassociation of me. Hating that I am not the victim but the nonwant. I have hated dreams where I am sheltered in the bliss of your conversation, snapping forward in the wake-fall to find my fist on the ghost of your hand. I have found, we are, you are, the effigy of indescription. You are not the push and pull of my lungs but the silence between breath, and I love you outside of words in my language (besides softness in the black endless of my pupils, the tremor I cannot stop for hours when you pass between rooms and I glimpse your shoe, this sick shrill clamp on my body when I let myself think, ohsobriefly, that I am truly without you) I am jealous and crazy. I am pathetic and dangerous. (and I thought: we only expose what we desire to those that we love) But my hair was never made of gold and you’ll say that doesn’t matter no small shallow trifling matter but I’d cut my heart out for you I’ve already begged at you for four years And that won’t impress you So what my dear, what am I to do? I confess... I was wearing a Freudian slip under my dress So, if I wrote this letter would bitterness stain and confine it? the strength, the etiquette I have refined you'll never know now, you'll never know I search for the lovers the believers bid my time to living But maybe we can share our wisdom later when the understanding collects with years over Me the contradiction You the cryptic Us the war |
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