I see, <br />in she strides, <br />the white-clad love of my life <br />sweet lover not my wife, <br />the aether air <br />too thick to breathe <br />as always, eternal, <br />she, almost maternal <br /> <br />her final word <br />a judgment <br />of her will. <br />Why stay? Be still? <br /> <br />To clarify peculiarities, solely, <br />she comes, <br />and certainly she will again, <br />no change; <br />the same. <br /> <br />All those minutes, hours, <br />convolutions of the brain, <br />left with the stain <br />emitted <br />all remembered – <br />all the same – <br />redone again. <br /> <br />now? <br />Why? Satiated <br />that depth <br />of lustfulness <br />engorged with passion. <br /> <br />“You’re still as beautiful, <br />to me, ” she states, <br />and thoughts of delighting her <br />inflicted me through every pore <br />as she sprayed Obsession <br />here, but mostly there... <br /> <br />(there’s no elegant way <br />of showing this, unforgettable.) <br /> <br />How herculean is the strength <br />of emotion, <br />of devotion <br />knowing one or the other <br />can save <br /> <br />lamb from the slaughter <br />the drowned from the water <br /> <br />and the “she” and “I” that forms a “we” <br />creates an absolutely present perfect entity. <br /> <br /> <br /><br />Lorenzo Costigliolo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-absolutely-perfect-presence/
