Two For My First

These two poems are dedicated to my first love and the lessons I had to learn from my experience.

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Creation

She was the first,
The first one that mattered.
Was given my heart,
I reclaimed it shattered.

The ones before,
Were before I knew.
The feelings I felt,
A name overdue.

With the name of love,
She was first to be given.
From atop desire’s plinth,
All friends were driven.

There was more to these,
A characteristic more.
Friends, I missed,
Love’s absence, I abhorred.

She took all of me,
Through no fault of her own.
Placed on a statue base,
My gaze carved her in stone.

She cared not for me,
So I fabricated her care.
Unchanged her friends’ hierarchy,
But I imagined myself there.

First in her mind,
I so wished to be.
Constant doubt from self-deception,
Self-perception divorced reality.

When manufacturing romance,
Words’ meanings bend.
I molded compassion,
In the visage of an awful friend.

Placed in my mind,
From then and forever.
Her absence and indifference,
The warped standard of lover.
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Hunted

It’s infuriating to see you,
In full fisherman’s garb.
Infatuating affection is bait,
Cold smile, hook’s barb.

I sprung int’ the forest,
At the sound of your shout.
But silence lowered my guard,
As your patience won out.

I was bleeding after your first shot,
My pelt stained with heartache.
My whimper informing,
Any offered help I’d take.

Never provided,
Is a poacher’s aid.
Stolen trophies and left gutted,
Or suffering ended with shining blade.

Yet when you venture out again,
And come across my land.
I’ll still approach you favourably,
Approach your kindly hand.

Memory of your past snare,
Held only faintly in my mind.
Only concern for today’s offerings,
That distract from the spear point behind.