Stained Monochrome Wings

Gatsby

10-17-13

I see this green,

but it isn't of envy!

In the Valley of Ashes,

the desolate,

a decay in this unnatural way of

my sick, relentless

life;

Symbolic of the clock,

shattered in a house of yours nor mine.

This stand-still,

a love I'll never find

but pursue still.

Why do you haunt me so,

my sardonic beaut?

I'll turn into Gatsby,

and covet my Daisy for the rest of my days.

I'll love you for the

would-be, the has-been

not the you of now

or the you of eventually.

With high hopes of reunion,

passionate,

ending in

disaster and toxicity:

The eyes are among us.