We tried to become something more impossible
And I got lost in how you talked
Sometimes two people are not possible
A romance that is over talked.
A murkiness obscures my sanity
I’m left wishing it was done
Shrieking out fits of profanity
While you are sulking in your fun.
I was hopeful this thing would work with you
But you have made me shy away
It seems a waste of time so hard to do
And I want you out of my life today.
Should I give this online thing another try
Trying men on like endless shoes
Or should I hide and back away to cry
Or dust of my heart that’s bruised?
Okay, this was one of the harder forms. I don’t do elegies, and I’m not even sure this is an elegy. I was struggling trying to figure what one even was, despite reading Tennyson and Emile Bronte. Both wrote elegies and I like them, but I rarely deal in sad rhyme. But, it’s an attempt and I would like to branch out with this one. Fog, I’m not sure the metaphor is there enough. Fog was something this online guy and I were discussing and how Dante wrote about it in Purgatory (I’m reading the Inferno right now) and this guy compared it to the horror film Silent Hill, something I refuse to see.
Well, anyways, it’s an attempt.