Pre-Romantic-Post
My muse has her cheeks pierced,
And her shoe laces loose,
But carefully placed, as to avoid
A sudden fall.
And around her perforations
are perfect circles of pink make believe
covering what I rightly suppose to be
skin of an unworldly softness.
And how I wither, submissive
To an artificial rhythm unworthy
Of her marvelous beauty.
The frailty of her voice,
The frailty of her words,
Add oceans to her fragile figure.
~ Trevor Abes
Trevor Abes is 19 years old and lives in Toronto. He has been published in Ditch, Sage of Consciousness, Re: Verse, and Raven Poetry Zine.
Well done. Wonderful imagery, honest piece.