Half (poem)

By Luke Labern

Burst through, brutal remnants of a self past.
Let words encapsulate the broken man:
This feeling the life blood, how long will it last?
Nineteen years crammed into a life unplanned.
Never invited myself, yet here I stand,
Playing someone else with this haunted cast.

Should I reveal my hidden affection?
Tingles play my spine as I read your lips:
Rumours you want, my latest selection;
Yes, you truly expect perfection.
Wits and beauty, fine hair and tempting hips;
But I cannot keep pace with your inspection.

This temporary soul wishes to alight
Every arousal worth intelligence,
Though how do I extract such pure delight
With weakness of will, none like a knight?
I am acting under false pretense—
This life compares too well with the night.

With final movements of this mood condemned;
If I meet my inner thoughts, I’ll mourn.
One part passion... The rest of this blend?
Every flaw I have tried to defend.
So with this final couplet I must warn
You, reader: between two lines am I torn.