My love
I’m nothing in your wake
the youth you hold
makes me quake
and it is all I can do
to hold this clay that aches,
together — all for your sake.
You are a fist
that comes down upon my heart
giving a life
a spark, a start
all so I can plead your case
before time’s royal immense face.
My love,
don’t take these stuttered words for truth.
I’m only like you
who so perfectly fill up space
that other’s only suffer from.
Exist and shine
like an unseen sun
beyond the incompletness
we are burnt by.
O! how foolish I was
trying to douse your flames!
Instead I climb these steps
and make of myself an offering.
This is no boast. Honestly.
I am handing you the knife ……………………
I like this poem, honestly:-)
Especially the first and the last stanza, especially these lines:
… the youth you hold makes me quake
and it is all I can do to hold this clay that aches together
… O! how foolish I was, trying to douse your flames!
… I am handing you the knife …
Is it the age gap killing the man in this poem?