POST ADOLESCENT POETRY

Eulogy

Lovers on a pedestal

Photo by Julia Volk from Pexels

I burnt your hand
with residues of nicotine;
you clogged my brain
with climates of melancholy—

therefore,
I can safely say
that you need
a eulogy from me.

You hide
but maybe you don’t
and only I believe
this fence of yours
to be fabricated, though
merely by my own projections
of wishful semblance.

You bruise slowly
then heal and talk
about marriage often.

Undecipherable resolve
is spent on jokes and jealousy,
wasted in games meant to delay
my illegitimate infatuation concretising.