Monday, June 25, 2012

"Love's Requiem"

"Love's Requiem" (my poem)

I die each time
That I see your face
And your silhouette
As your apparition leaves me
Down the steps in grace.

My breath gets caught
As I stare at you,
And so I follow
Because that is all I can do
Whenever I see you.

Out into the dead of night,
Down these steps, I flee,
As I look around for you.
But you've gone away, and so,
I search, fervently.

Where are you?
Where did you go?
Come to me, again, my love,
And stay.
You make me happier than you know.

I see you everywhere,
As though
You also can't let go.
Please show up, once more, for me.
Don't leave me in woe.

It feels as though I die
Each time I see you near-
Your beauty mesmerising, still-
And I die even more, it seems,
When you aren't here.

So, I wait for you, Darling,
I wait for you, here.

Author:  April Morone
Date, written:  June 7th, 2012
Revision date:  June 19th, 2012

*This is written as though from a man's perspective for the woman he's lost in a tragic accident that left her dead, yet he cannot see that she truly is gone.  In his mind, she is not yet completely gone, he loves her that much.  And so, he is tormented by her apparition out of his love for her that he still has-that of what is said to be "Love's Requiem," or love's chant/rhythm/beat-that is said to never fully go away.  I envisioned this when hearing a song by the band "Trading Yesterday," titled "Love Song Requiem."  The title I chose, I chose because it was too fitting to the storyline that popped into my head while I'd been listening to that song as I'd been drifting off into sleep.  The title I chose is, I realise, a bit too close to the band's song title.  But, nothing else seemed fitting, enough, to the storyline of the story I saw of imagination when I'd heard that song.  Anyhow, when seeing this storyline in my mind as I'd heard that song, I saw in my imagination, Victorian era time frame and period clothing, etc., and a backyard being of extravagant design, with rose bushes and wonderful prim and proper rose bushes, and these elegant steps that seem to go down, a bit, to get to the yard.  the house a top the steps, magnificent in its own right, and the apparition of the gentleman's wife who'd passed away, going down the steps when eerily haunting him in/caused by his imagination and love for her that he still has.  And I envisioned him going down those elegant steps, past the elegant rose bushes in search of her, at night time, but to no avail, as she slips out of sight. But, because I am probably not so good at storytelling, I resolve to telling it all in a poem and then in a description adjacent to the poem about the story I imagined.

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