to my paramour of a thousand plastic pieces

Free Verse ReVolution

I felt the glaze of
your irises, a stormcloud environment that
takes thunder and reduces it to nuisance,
downgrades lucidity
to ludicrous
ambition;

stealing an unfinished
work and listing
all its flaws.

So I abstain from
your quest for
a plastic identity, even as
you tempt me with
an immortal youth.

Wisdom is rarely
kind to those who disguise
the rise and fall they’ve
weathered,

and no true
sage lets himself be
tethered to the censorship

of human beauty.

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