literature

Melody

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indiana-w's avatar
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Published:
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Literature Text

He blushed today.
It was fucking beautiful.

Something about me responds
to something about him.
I wonder if it is all in the eyes.
His are blue, always blue.
Sometimes they are sea blue,
or storm blue, or ice-chipped,
or like the wide expanse of the sky.
I hunger to just look into them.
I don't want to get lost, or stare
forever into his gaze.
I just want to freely examine them
when I see them, always changing,
always so beautiful.

He is a constant amongst
my capricious tendencies.
Ever since I first saw him,
I have been unable to forget his charm.
He appeals to me in the purest way
that anyone ever has.
Caught still between boy
and man, he draws from me
an artistic passion, as if
he was a muse or angel.
I half believe him descended
from Fair folk, so much
does the light stream from him.
It is no force of charisma, or will,
and mine is no reverence of lust,
that covers him like a halo.
Every poem for him should have an idea of beauty beginning with M, inadequate though it is.

It is not love, or lust, or a biological response. Gender has nothing to do with it. Perhaps it is an untainted pansexual response?

I am enamoured with my pupil n.n Wicked of me.
He is gravity, assuredly.
© 2009 - 2024 indiana-w
Comments21
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IncompleteMe's avatar
I felt blossoming in my heart.
I like it.