"Mapmaking"
I thought myself a clever cartographer,
Sketching maps into your life
In shifting sands.
I inscribed my theories upon the papyrus,
All that remained beyond my understanding was written off,
That morning you vanished into the sunrise-
A charge of Ra,
Those pillowtalk lies you hissed into my ear-
An obvious demand of Set,
Our loss-
A mere tax owed to Osiris,
All brushed aside as mysticism or myth.
I was the great archaeologist,
Establishing a dig site to excavate your emotions
So that I might organize, number, and study them,
So that I might translate those hieroglyphic expressions,
Etched into your stone face before you pushed me away.
Scrutinizing your mysteries by candlelight
While the frankensense and midnight oil burned.
Every night together was a dig,
Pickaxe kisses,
Chipping away at the tight wrappings,
-Those uncomfortable,
Silent chasms
Swallowing our sparkling conversation
Whenever I'd mention Love,-
Wound about your mummified heart.
Though I once explored your depths without a flashlight,
I realize little remains of our once cavernous love
Now that the walls have fallen in upon themselves,
The only remnants sealed within a sarcophagus
For the echoes of your words,
Pitted like a candied date,
Emptied of their truth and veracity.
I once thought myself a clever cartographer,
Until the desert drowned my maps,
Until you changed your topography.
28th of October, 2004
-Keyon Shokraie-
Sketching maps into your life
In shifting sands.
I inscribed my theories upon the papyrus,
All that remained beyond my understanding was written off,
That morning you vanished into the sunrise-
A charge of Ra,
Those pillowtalk lies you hissed into my ear-
An obvious demand of Set,
Our loss-
A mere tax owed to Osiris,
All brushed aside as mysticism or myth.
I was the great archaeologist,
Establishing a dig site to excavate your emotions
So that I might organize, number, and study them,
So that I might translate those hieroglyphic expressions,
Etched into your stone face before you pushed me away.
Scrutinizing your mysteries by candlelight
While the frankensense and midnight oil burned.
Every night together was a dig,
Pickaxe kisses,
Chipping away at the tight wrappings,
-Those uncomfortable,
Silent chasms
Swallowing our sparkling conversation
Whenever I'd mention Love,-
Wound about your mummified heart.
Though I once explored your depths without a flashlight,
I realize little remains of our once cavernous love
Now that the walls have fallen in upon themselves,
The only remnants sealed within a sarcophagus
For the echoes of your words,
Pitted like a candied date,
Emptied of their truth and veracity.
I once thought myself a clever cartographer,
Until the desert drowned my maps,
Until you changed your topography.
28th of October, 2004
-Keyon Shokraie-