The wasted carcass of Willoughby rots,
His vacant shell is gone, so I will not catch the stench.
What to do but feel and feel and feel?
I linger and brood on the life he promised me,
The life he now chucks at me, smack.
They twitch, recline and pace around me,
Offering vacant comforts through dark eyes.
Nothing but the ripping of pages, tear, claw
“Oh, what a dashing bachelor, what a favourable catch”
Shattered, stamped on and rubbed into the carpet.
Song drags me through as a hymn;
The sound aches, then slows to melancholy.
Pouring out through symphonies, once our sweet,
Now bitter, red and shrivelling,
Like the heap of my youth that piles up from the floor.
Longing for goodbyes turn to longing for revenge,
A vivid delusion of a settling of scores
Wakes me. The satisfaction of a final declaration,
Of our sour love that acidifies my stomach.
Ordained to go unfulfilled.
1 comment:
Once again your vocabulary is shining through, you really know how to turn a phrase or two!
I also liked that you weren't afraid to break style a little including the quote. It adds to the second stanza well.
I would have liked to see a bit more enjambment and internal rhyme though. This would have allowed you give your poem a more rhythmic / physical feel which I feel is a key factor in the success of much of Duffy's poetry.
Mr. M.
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