December 19, 2011

  • 32

    Before me lies what each woman needs:
    core values, features of security, essentials,
    even luxuries that foam in glittering elegance upon the surface.
    But I need a knight.

    So unmatched is the body to the mind
    that you may feed an empty stomach only to have
    unhappiness purge itself of nourishment.
    The soul starves into itself.

    I need a knight to save me,
    perhaps with his sword, perhaps with his love, perhaps with his life.
    A knight sees past the poison beneath this mask of blossoms.
    For me, he would win the final battle against the rosy disease.

    Don't tell me to find my knight in myself.
    Digging deep only exposes more diseased flesh for further oxidation.
    Fact: It's for the best, in my best interest.
    But I insist I've enough youth to wait for my knight.

    Even though I know their kind is fantasy,
    so accustomed I am to self-destruction,
    I'll see the end of this tragedy
    and decay slowly beneath bad poetry.