She was seductive, a force consuming my lust.
Consuming my compliments as she smiles and blush.
She drove me to love her and I bought her a ring.
I wanted to show her that this was more than a fling.
He flashed me a smile, suiting his arrogant looks,
and at all the right moments, right words, right expressions.
But the ease at which he gave me that ring,
made me feel fooled by his game, me: an ignorant little thing?
This was more than a fling, she was something different.
She made my heart sing when our lips synced in position.
My love would part the sea's and bare the weight of the world.
For her love for me exceeded the way she made my toes curl.
As a mirror my reflection was her affection and commitment.
I presented this ring to what my life has been missin.
Though accepting to the call of my heart,
My mind couldn't help but wonder,
would he have cared,
If I were another.
If i were of his kind.
If I were with child.
What if? what if?
My mind was going wild.
Days creeped past and i sensed hesitation,
our wedding day approached and i grew nervous from waitin.
But at night i couldn't sleep for I sensed her second thoughts.
What if I was right and our love would hit the rocks.
What if she didn't want me and why would she even bother,
Will she leave me standing heart-broken at the alter.
My family's all excited and my mother filled with bliss,
Wedding around the corner receiving so many gifts.
Pretending to sleep, knowing he didn't,
All the stress turning me into a bridezilla,
but leave him at the alter? No, not an option.
Not to him, or his mom; I'd coil in revulsion.
In my dress i walked, a walk to remember,
smiling with every step, silently cursing my mind's continues questions,
He said 'yes i do' watching me with tender eyes:
Eyes full of...yes, I saw children...were they mine to be?
Or were these beauties of another?? So different from me?
"...your lawful and beloved husband" i heard
i said...i said...'yes.'
Hoping it was the right word.
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©2009 ~Nurzy
Author's Comments
I'd like to thank
 for this collaboration. For having given me the opportunity of being dependent on his mind for my words and depending on my mind for his, and forever trusting that the result will turn out fine  . I suggest you all have a look in his gallery some time, since he's a truly unique poet(and person if you meet him).As for the poem: When in doubt, even at the Alter, call it off...you can always resume the wedding, but a split second decision on the one you should unconditionally love, and trust is not right. |
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Comments
--
Practice Free Association Thinking, Meanings are beyond the obvious - Art Clokey
Check out my
--
Live by the pen and pencil and you live free!
It's not our skill that makes us what we are, it's our passion.
Writer At Heart!
What more is there to life?
--
everything that is good is either: immoral, illigal, or fattening.
The nature of my heart doesn't respect the laws of physics or definition.
plz take ur time to read this [link]
--
everything that is good is either: immoral, illigal, or fattening.
The nature of my heart doesn't respect the laws of physics or definition.
plz take ur time to read this [link]
--
Live by the pen and pencil and you live free!
It's not our skill that makes us what we are, it's our passion.
Writer At Heart!
What more is there to life?
--
everything that is good is either: immoral, illigal, or fattening.
The nature of my heart doesn't respect the laws of physics or definition.
plz take ur time to read this [link]
--
Live by the pen and pencil and you live free!
It's not our skill that makes us what we are, it's our passion.
Writer At Heart!
What more is there to life?
--
everything that is good is either: immoral, illigal, or fattening.
The nature of my heart doesn't respect the laws of physics or definition.
plz take ur time to read this [link]
When did you first start writing poetry?
--
Live by the pen and pencil and you live free!
It's not our skill that makes us what we are, it's our passion.
Writer At Heart!
What more is there to life?
When i started...hmm, well, i started end 10th grade...so mid 2007. i was living alone with my dad since i still had to get my diploma before we both reunited with the rest of the family, i was lonely, doubting my faith, and any reason to live. then i wrote 'shred to pieces' 3 other poems followed 'disconnected agony', 'a dream' and one i can't remember the name of, and then i swore off poetry.
I got a boyfriend, who was on dA, (he does digital manips) and so he kept linking me here to see his stuff, till eventually i got an account, and not to keep it empty, i uploaded the 4 poems i had (which i had never let anyone read before). by this time i stabalized btw, reasoned my doubts etc.and then i don't know how or why, but i started writing again...and since then, i guess it just came...i met some poets here (first only my ex supported me here (then bf) and then came non poets), and then i met mirror...not actually because of his poetry but because of the way he commented on someone else...and since then i guess i've been stuck in the writing world
--
everything that is good is either: immoral, illigal, or fattening.
The nature of my heart doesn't respect the laws of physics or definition.
plz take ur time to read this [link]
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