My Concrete Duchess

 

What is love anything but concrete,

Or is it termed know now as obsolete?

I ask this to the stone couple before me,

As my soul is begging to be let free.

The Dutch Boy with his crumbling from the air,

And his Duchess with her age stained hair,

Were made as a pair.

 

The excitement in their eyes shine,

As the Duchess waits for her eternal surprise.

The Dutch Boy holds his bouquet of roses.

Each of them remaining in their love dazed poses.

They never had fought while in my care,

Or retreated into individual affairs.

No, they are engulfed inside of each other’s air.

 

So I sit here in my jealousy,

As I am drowning in Hennessey.

I wonder how long I will have to wait,

For my concrete poured mate.

So I can have her gaze to hold,

And bouquets for me to make inside of our home,

Or perhaps I will crumble away alone.

Reviews

[AshlynnStyx]

This poem is powerful and gorgeous. I love it. I actually can't quite find the words to describe the emotional tilt that just occurred. Thank you.