8.66
(18 votes)
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Stargazing
is nothing more than
a romantic dalliance to some,
but for the more arcane of spirit
it can reveal portents
if one knows where to look
and posseses the sinister
perception for the task.
I've become one of the latter.
Venus with its sodium glow
could have easily been our star,
at least in those early days
of countertop romance
and falling asleep
blissfully drunk
on the drum beat
of each other's heart.
But it was not to be.
Venus may be named
for the goddess of love
but age and familiarity
change her from amorous
to poisonous.
In restrospect,
I'd name Mars
our patron star.
Dry surface rife
with dessicated riverbeds
the only signs of life,
microscopic
at the frozen poles,
the ruins of that romance
crumbling into red iron dust
our memories
brittle with oxidation,
our once gentle language
grown harshly Bradburian.
Mars is more honest
than Venus.
war is hell
and makes no apologies
for the carnage.
Love is too fickle
too prone to the sudden shift
of loyalties,
unstable ground and the unexpected
pain of a back biting blade.
I'll sing my martian love song
with rust edged sword held high.
Love is war my friends,
but I'm too cold to die.
------ Smile if you're stupid,
laugh if you understand.
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