My Intimate Poetry: Prosperity's Irony.

He is yet to know me. Monopolize.

He will regret knowing me...

Love be damned if it is not of true intention. ― Tammy-Louise Wilkins.



In his eyes, I was the serving girl;
Obscured by poverty and shadow.
Though he was to discover my true fortune
And suffer the affliction of love once more.

I did not bellow at the top of my lungs,
I did not dress nor act accordingly,
I hid beneath the safety of a working girl’s facade,
My fortune lay quiet within the confidence of my kin.

He knew not of my true position,
Nor the life that I truly lead.
No, his eyes beheld the distasteful sight
Of a malleable maid.

But one morning, he noticed me
In my frank attire and true stature.
Oh how his heart clenched once more
At the sight of yet another thriving consort.

How he nurtured me with his proclaiming warmth,
Now that we were of the strands of the same brush.
His hesitation lacking in his confession of love,
Nor the asking of my hand.

Did my heart rejoice when he uttered those words?
Did I entwine our hands and flurry into the distance?
Did I finally feel complete in my true place in class and spouse?
No, I did not.

One night I was witness to that sight once more;
Of the lover I’d once longed to and had believed I’d replaced;
Clutched in the passionate clinch of lust
By his polluted, aberrant, adulterous hands.

The emitting of opulence seduced him again
Not once, not twice, but a tormenting thrice.
How a sleek slather of parchment waved beneath his nose
Encouraged another invocation of love.

Oh what cruel irony;
How I wanted him from afar.
Now I detest his fickle soul
In its candid and sickening light.

Bitterness consumed my very being,
I extinguished our flame with its flavour.
His cries of fidelity deplorable and derisory;
He knew not of what was to come.

I did not depart this triangle with a meagre thump,
No, I exited with a display of pyrotechnics.
I charred her with truth and watched her flee,
Leaving that mercurial man with nothing but his only love;

Money.

Yet my heart still ached at this,
Indifferent to his deserving fate.
Because, despite his vacillation and callousness,
I still loved him.

2015 © Tammy-Louise Wilkins


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Comments

  1. This is such a beautiful poem, you write so well! Can't wait to read more! :)

    Heather Xx
    100waysto30.co.uk

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Heather! :) That's ever so kind of you. xx

      You can read more of my poetry and prose here: http://tammy-louisewilkins.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/Category%3A%20Literature

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  2. You write the words that make people fall in love with poetry. Absolutely sensational piece of writing xxx

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    Replies
    1. Thank you ever so much, Stephen. What did you think about the twist in this sequel?

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    2. It's a good one Tammy! Love does interesting things. The love we want to last the most is the love that is the most fleeting of loves.

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    3. I didn't see it coming but as with most love it seems to be the way things turn out when its the thing we crave xxx

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    4. Isn't that unfortunately the sad truth? Perhaps it is why the candle of Love burns out more often than not.

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