*Writing happy love poems gets tedious sometimes. This is about forgetting how love is supposed to be and dwelling on the negatives. It’s pessimistic and trying to say “nothing lasts forever”. There are a few literary references within it, but the primary one that stuck in my mind was Ozymandias. Hence the title and the multiple references to it.*

I knew it once.
What feels like centuries ago.
What feels like the king’s works beneath the desert sands.
From a time my memory remains a shattered hourglass.
With the sands seeping out and spreading over time.
I would look at her face and feel perfection.
A strange sensation I couldn’t adequately describe.
The wings of something more fierce than butterflies.
A power mightier than the thousand ships.
It disappeared as these feelings do.
Moving on to different faces.
Shifting like the desert sands.
What do I truly remember anymore?
The fear and despair from the worst of nights.
The true “worst” that accompanied the best.
Or the things that make the worst worth fighting past.
How does it feel?
Does the numbness wash away again?
Is there passion like the burning suns?
Or will the flame be weakened by the floods of storm?
Is there happiness?
Or is that just the script talking again?
How things are supposed to play out once we act out our parts.
All while a captive audience of vultures waits to prey upon us.
When we’re tattered carrion for the birds.
Is it always so inevitable?
Looking over your shoulder the second it starts.
With nerves sinking in during every kiss.
And a fragile mind that listens to haunting whispers.
And the more you ignore them the more they turn to screams.
Internally, externally.
No matter the name.
No matter the face.
It doesn’t matter.
Neither the time nor the place.
When it all ends the same.
How is it supposed to feel?
Like a painted ship upon a still sea,
Quiet and serene.
Or like a maelstrom bringing down a burning fleet?
Violent, chaotic.
Does the hurricane pass or do we stay stuck in the eye,
Feeding off a false sense of reality.
Whispering empty words of love.
When we can’t even comprehend the feelings we think of.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *