Greetings from the Unknown
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My eyes aren't constellations to gaze at,
I am the darkness you are afraid of.
I want to greet you with many "Hi's," have a chit-chat,
But "goodbye" is the end, at least it landed too soft.
I ain't a panacea; please stop this musical play,
Not in a scripted movie, as prophesied in the sonnet.
How many times must I say, "You must stay"?
I cried that day, I want to fly out of this closet.
No idea if this is the answer to your question—
A cup of coffee or tea, but not me.
Darling, how can I breach thy obsession?
If I am the only one you want to see?
I'll buy you a book, as we are side stories,
Not consorts of fiery realms, but instead Olympus.
Zeus is not a guy with the sweetest berries,
As pious words lie under Eucalyptus.
Ultimately, sending regards to the southern islands,
I'm glad to be your last ephemeral consort.
I thought it was a dream to wave my hands—
From burning castles, no one's athwart.
YOU ARE READING
Cornelia Street
PoetryThrough sonnets inspired by Shakespeare, I finally reveal the intimate secrets I've kept hidden for so long, even though I'm afraid no one will hear them. They capture the anguish of unspoken emotions I've never been able to say out loud, hoping for...
