Desdemona

Desdemona
by Michael R. Burch

Though you possessed the moon and stars,
you are bound to fate and wed to chance.
Your lips deny they crave a kiss;
your feet deny they ache to dance.
Your heart imagines wild romance.
 

Though you cupped fire in your hands
and molded incandescent forms,
you are barren now, and -- spent of flame --
the ashes that remain are borne
toward the sun upon a storm.
 

You, who demanded more, have less,
your heart within its cells of sighs
held fast by chains of misery,
confined till death for peddling lies --
imprisonment your sense denies.
 

You, who collected hearts like leaves
and pressed each once within your book,
forgot. None -- winsome, bright or rare --
not one was worth a second look.
My heart, as others, you forsook.
 

But I, though I loved you from afar
through silent dawns, and gathered rue
from gardens where your footsteps left
cold paths among the asters, knew --
each moonless night the nettles grew

and strangled hope, where love dies too.

Published by Penny Dreadful, Carnelian and Romantics Quarterly. Keywords/Tags: Love, passion, desire, lust, attraction, chemistry, distance, regret, loneliness, alienation, separation, parting, divorce