I found this old poem I wrote about about my romantic relationships in high school. it’s held remarkably, and sadly, true over the last 6 or 7 years. Half of me wants to go pat myself on the back, while the other half wants to go slap myself in the face. I do wish I hadn’t taken such a long break from writing poetry.
The first light warms the skin
a welcome, playful thing begins;
the day goes on with youthful bliss.
the time apart gives time to miss
the time together, which is at first,
a novel pleasure that quenches thirst.
But as the bright sun rises higher
heat starts to melt that first desire;
the shining sun becomes too hot.
what once was sweet begins to rot.
The time apart now spent without
passionate dreams; lust turns to doubt.
When at last the cool night breaks,
to nurse the burns and mend the aches,
a welcome solitude replaces
the day’s forced smiles and stifling embraces;
but, the night’s silken silence soon goes on
to bear a longing for the break of dawn.