This is a free verse, very self-indulgent poem. Forgive me. Any thoughts about it?
Neither docile nor timid thou art.
Yet with your veritable tenacity you prevail
upon my consciousness; an insistence
in webbed corners and those always clean.
Oh, Thief of all Thieves!
You have robbed perfume from the flowers.
And suddenly I am a frequenter of a flat meadow;
once a mélange of scents, now muted by a breeze
that brings only the fragrance of my obsession.
Oh, Paradoxical Man!
With good intentions you act without thought.
Thou art guilty of innocence, yet innocently guilty;
by your doing I am a coin with shaved edges,
my value depleted by your unwitting, but responsible hands.
Oh, Dearest of Acquaintances!
In continual, inexorable brevity we join.
Scores of moments! They, once relived,
disclose only the fleeting nothing of chatter
and my desperation to prolong our casual contact.
Oh, Pitiable Me.
I have resigned to listless inactivity,
to an apparently un-rectifiable, self-defeating situation;
and accordingly, whilst guilt resides in my Thieving Acquaintance,
the blame resides with me.
Thank you
-Maggie
