You Define Me

Another maiden here,

known as lover girl.

By your door, as crowds leer,

and I make you my world.

You like your coffee sweet;

Humid days by the beach;

You hate staying indoors;

You never cared for the grandeur;

These little things that I know,

listening to you as you speak,

your eyes and its incandescent glow,

Your large hands and its heat.

People always pass me by,

unphased, unmoved,

I’m invisible until you arrived,

suddenly everybody’s here too,

like saying your name lights a fire

during this perilous snowstorm.

Like speaking to an

empty auditorium,

until I start to mention

you and this mayhem,

now every seat’s booked.

Maiden in love,

but also an artist,

also independent, ambitious,

an idealist, a fabulist.

Wise beyond my years,

now acting like a kid,

dances to the sound of her choir;

A plethora of identifiers,

none of it seems to matter

when you’re a lover.

I’m the one who dimmed the lights

to my big city fantasy,

just so I could spend my life

orbiting you, in your galaxy.

You’re so vivid with colour,

isn’t it a wonder

you’re the muse to my poet?

But my complexions added to your palette,

nobody could turn you away,

but now I’m a sickly grey.

I’ll watch you fly;

Soaring high;

And I’ll cry;

And I’ll die;

And everyone will sigh.

Attending my post-mortem,

gathering their sources,

discussing what happened, shot glasses,

a game of telephone in prep classes.

My fetishized despair,

glorified by me and them.

Eulogy read with spectacular flare,

passing their officious condolences,

burying me in your casket.