To The Fairest Of The Fair

to the fairest of the fair-

how could I fail to recognize you-

you with your tender mercies

and uncounted griefs

so bravely on display?

I would rather fall,

than drown,

but you are all piscean,

tumultous,

and moist.

thinking of you is a panoply

imagery of tentacles

and libation,

daggered moments,

and unhoped for liberation-

ecstasy,

to be the one who got away.

I know well now, who I am,

and what I encompass,

what penetrates,

what my soul entwines unto-

not you.

so have you come

to play in my funeral procession?

or perhaps to indulge

in a last midnight confession?

(or just to underline,

thick and black, obsession)

whichever or whatever,

worst or least,

unwelcome to the feast-

you are unwanted, uneeded,

and have ceased,

to mean anything at all, to me.

and you will say,

(and I will say)-

that is a lie;

perhaps it is, but that matters naught,

and in any case,

goodbye.