In the Legs of Loss Poem, by Tristan Robert Lange, at My poetic side

I gave all of me,

My whole,

My everything—

All of me

That was mine

To give—

My mind,

My beliefs

My bleeding barometer;

Shared in solemn betrothal.

My body,

Intertwined in loss’s legs—

Warmed by wryd’s wet warren—

Shot forth my potency.

Enigma’s ejaculate entombs in the womb.

My soul—

I know, this is quite a roll—

Given without thought,

To Eros’ black hole,

Which if one

Thinks, is how to dole

Out willful obscuration

For an emaciated whole.

No more.

Comments +

Cheeky Missy June 18th, 2025 06:08
It's actually not surprising the extent to which you sacrificed your very being on the altar of alleged heights of aka love, nor is the aftermath of such depths terribly shocking, nor the disavowel so confusing, ergo what is it? Gorgeously rendered with nigh exquisite imagery and a deliciously haunting poignancy. I'm not sufficiently awake to but mull this beauty. Thank you for sharing.
sorenbarrett June 18th, 2025 06:20
A perfect thought and well written. I love the hole you left in the text as a symbol. This poem was raw and exposing pouring out the soul. A cosmic feeling that reaches deep. A fave

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