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A Man in a Room, and other poems - 25. favorite dish
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Poem No. 69
To write of her, is to insult her
words work out that way
to think of her
means there is simply, too much to say
A jail of adjectives
cannot contain her face
a prison of pronouns
is weaker than spun lace
The worst squalor of all, is the oppression
of two damnations
to press her onto paper, is mere obsession.
Her image doesn't deserve such repression.
Poem No. 70
Prelude:
They work together
in ways unseen
to strike and dash the dreams
of paupers and queens
through thick and thin
their meal is rich
though misery is
their favorite dish.
Poem:
Beauty and beast,
sweet child of life,
your fate is sown.
Creature of life,
you feel your happiness gone;
the will to fight,
lost to his mournful song.
Beauty and beast.
Swaying to the rhythm
of his frightful waltz,
she lets herself give way,
and knows for it she longs.
Faster and faster in dizzying speed she turns,
she wants to touch him, wants to be him,
but is frightened by her yearns.
Now she knows that love is hate,
so that dreams can be real.
Without the other the one is fake; without him
she can never feel.
She needs him more than her simple life;
without fear he is more than reason,
he is the means of strife.
Beauty and beast,
sweet creatures of life;
beauty in death,
she sees herself,
one with him, to be free.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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