Silly Little Romance-Book

The motions move on,
As your footsteps leave those halls,
Leave an echo of your smile
To play upon my tender memory,
Where every slip
And every piece of you is
Delicately tumbling
Off our pages
Of a silly little romance-book.
Naïve and infantile I grew-
Two years since a Sonnet,
No, it must be three,
And twice that since I
First laid eyes on your form,
An angelic, ethereal,
My honest Christopher,
My hate and my desire,
From which tears and prayers
Poured: “Lord, remove these feelings!”
I prayed but still they remained,
A good sign, perhaps?
No, instead, some sort of obsession
Begun to blossom
On and on, as I grew myself,
And you, I know you saw me,
Christopher, you couldn’t not tend
The flower of a child
You once argued with in class;
Now, we argue with our bodies,
Eyes a-flirting once,
Then full of strict rejection next.
You are too honest
That you dare not take a chance!
Two more years and I
Would love you freely,
Unwritten good like the pages
Of the Bible you seek;
I will love you without the
Stilted restraint, without shame,
If only you did not carry it close,
And with that, your
Matrimony closed.
The motions move themselves on,
As you pack your bags
And leave the rooms
We together explored,
First year, so young, so bright,
Second year with responsibility,
Third, you let me rot in sin,
But fourth you brought me back,
Without quite being the same
As fifth and Sixth Form-
The future me, you already abandoned.
And motions can’t quite explain
Why I still know that I feel it-
In my heart, revealed, I feel it-
No anger where I forgive;
Your smile there to keep me from
Forgetting that look you gave me
Even when I was anger.
The motions move on,
You turn a new leaf,
But I am kept stuck
In the same chapter of love.

The End

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