by KJ Hannah Greenberg
I Gave You Me
What a wonderful dream!
But I awoke to find the scene a fantasy,
A crystal bubble, crafted shell,
Fabricated delight, fantastic dell, failed
Design of a sketch wrought so carefully;
I gave you me.
We rolled our bodies often, in tune
With no harp music or promises song.
My heart, better than skipping stones,
Counting pages, wrinkles, mornings,
Id wish you health, Id wish you love.
Fancied, together, to sail away.
Your sweat and hair, mosaic-like
Swayed in mortise and tendon
On our sky-covered bed, while the sun
Chilled me, blurred your face,
Then all I had gifted was gone,
Such wonder sucked from my every part.
Some boats, sailing seas,
Encircle others points of view,
Until drawn against.
Juliet Capulet, Her Nurse, and the Moon
Lunar Lady of the night,
What evil you yet play,
On darlings simple, drifting hearts.
By desires that you sway.
Lesser sun, you cursed fiend,
Now lift your blight from me,
This fair childs unfussy loves
Not meant as victory.
What is it dear, that strong unrest,
I hear beneath your sill?
Strange words you seem bold to confess,
Your face gleams stranger still.
Granny Dear, it hurts me here,
Such nasty, sharp, bright pain.
Perhaps its from the evening air,
I wont complain, again.
(Im not too new to know or guess
What sighs, what lurks beyond.
By what odd means secrets unfold,
Or lovers carry on.)
Hush, Dear One, quiet now,
Rest your head, be calm.
Mornings just a little while
fore shelter from the storm.
But Nursie Sweet, it stays as true
The moons warriors, her knaves,
Work fairy tales, nothing more;
Only maidens count as brave.
Ive fallen from my ledge, out there,
Ive tripped into a cote,
Where beasts rip up the chaste, they tear.
There is no way to get out.
Little Dove, dont speak of such.
Youll continue good plus pure.
No winning comes from darkened thoughts,
From reaching past your door.
Almost Mother, its too late
To call back horses fled,
I cry with night, will know the day.
I die upon my bed.
I pledged my troth, I gave my word.
Im broken through and through
I have no breath, no honor left,
Without Sir Montague.
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