Love Poem: Peering Through Constellations
Lu Loo Avatar
Written by: Lu Loo

Peering Through Constellations

Seems like yesterday we peered through constellations,
like lost doves in flight yearning for their ivory salvation.
Wearing wings that beamed in specks of flaring stardust,
leaving blazing memories full of crimson temptation. 
Forgotten and abandoned like unalterable mistrust,
lost love is like a shadow hungry for antiquated lust.

You used to surface me like pebbles along a tidal shore, 
now I can’t seem to forget the departed days of yore.
Let bygones go extinct and I’ll never look behind
to see the cessation of the misty revolving door.
Wondering in disregard of things that I’ll never find,
for we were always grace and unforgiveness combined.

The surpassed harvest moon has given me no sympathy,
all I acquired is a homeless body full of insecurity.
No reassurance when the light fades into dimming gray,
No rest for the condolences devoid of serene sincerity. 
For we are all but youthful children longing to play,
and I am but a neglected girl stuck in obsolete disarray.

Vanished and remitted like a resounding aria of a tune, 
to all things of disregard, I have become utterly immune.
The past no longer gives me solace when I need it most, 
obscurity hides deep within the tempest and typhoon. 
For you are nothing but a withering phantasm ghost, 
and I am nothing but a hollow shell of an unholy host. 

A masculine touch used to bring me to my longing knees, 
now I beg and plead for all this infatuation to cease. 
I thought I knew what hunger was when I met you,
but all I learned was how to find warmth in the freeze.
You used to be my solidifying rock, my cemented glue, 
now you turned all my shining medallion into indigo blue.

Can’t you see the real me that just can’t find alleviation?
Seems like yesterday we peered through constellations.
Each shooting star reminded me of our craving affection, 
gaping at the outline of your silhouette with adoration.  
We used to share a rarity of an unyielding connection, 
now we gather and break bread in invariable imperfection. 




Ten Words Poetry Contest
April 7, 2018