From Ghost of Heraclitus · 10:50pm Nov 4th, 2016
A Poem:
(Not written for me thank gods, but for a very foolish friend)
A [Name]ical Love Poem
My best beloved, baby, honey-bun, sugar, love—I sent you a thing
several things, in fact: a video, some text, a lot of subtext
And I've noticed, in passing, lightly, that since my words took wing
it's been, oh, about 1128.7 seconds. Give or take. About. Are you vexed?
I mean, I'm sure you have your reasons: kidnapped by assassins, say
from an underground realm of the worshipers of the crimson-jawed god
Huntokar, sceptered king, besmeared with blood? Oh! They'll pay!
Was it ninjas? A plague? Oh, I don't worry, no, it's just... it's odd...
I mean... it's been 1150.6 seconds now... do you secretly hate me?
You do! Admit it! Confess! You do! You hate! Loathe! Despise!
I was blind! Deaf! Mute! Insane! Dumb! Daft! How could I not see?
It was you! You deceived me! You bastard with your honeyed lies!
No more! I shall withdraw! Hide! I will speak no more, no, soundless
I will sit, like a granite tor, mute in silent contemplation, thoughts
like silence, spreading around me, and me, a sage, my sight boundless
my rationality, a shield, and I will be happy, I will! I will! Lots!
Oh my heavens, that made me laugh more than it should've.
The Shepherdess replieth:*
My love is blithe and buxom
And sweet and fine as can be,
Fresh and gay as the flowers in May
And looks like Jack-a-Dandy.
And if he will not have me
That do so truly love him,
I'll drink my wine and ne'er repine--
And down the stairs I'll shove him.
pre10.deviantart.net/dcfc/th/pre/i/2016/103/2/5/the_swing_by_jadedjynx-d9ypev0.png
(Art by JaDeDJynX)
*(There's even music)
Ghost of Heraclitus is a national treasure.
Someday we'll find out which nation's.
Wow...that went from up-beat to bottom of the basement sorrow faster than my love life!
Poor sap...maybe it will all work out. It couldn't take more than one or two minutes for the object of said affection to reply.
Or not.
Ah yes, that awkward 20 minutes of silence. I know it well.
A rough approximation of how I feel whenever I post a story. Those first 1178.9 seconds are the absolute worst.
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Wasn't it Redactovia?
Oh, Jesus Christ you posted this.
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That functions remarkably well, actually, to sum up said friend's attitude afterwards.
Also, I'd like to formally apologize for the meter in the above. I wrote it in a fit of frustration in chat while serving as a therapist.
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Redactedstan. But it's a common error. Redactovia is northeast, and we both border the intervening land of Ruritania.
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Alas, it was not to be. Well probably. I told her repeatedly to use her words in telling said object of affection something but she's refused, trusting in his innate telepathic talents.
Protip: This is the worst idea.
4286592 I said I would n______n