Aphelia

 

Our views in youth are nothing

Or something heir-apparent

A drunken love for disillusionment

They’d had too much Smirnoff last night

Slurrings of  Job in their eighteen years

And unavoidable blind faith in theism

Do you belong there?

Perhaps it is only my idea of you.

Do I believe?

I fear that I am silently in love with only myself.

I was the one more deceived[1]

 

I remain awake

The rain creates innocence like a bath

But I would profess my humanity

Only you, divine to forgive

Someone else implored me not to wear white on my wedding day

I let it happen –

Divided from myself and judgment

You missed my most intimate times with you

 

I do not mention these—

Even when tongues are too loose

You are my personal infection

Something ever-present as I exist

I say I think nothing –love is not brief

And I tell myself that it is only love

 



[1] Hamlet – Act III, Scene I