You can put away your broadsword. Swashbuckling’s not in style. You need not kill a dragon to bring about my smile. Chivalry is so passé. It’s gone right out of fashion. It does not raise my temperature nor bring about my passion.
If you wish to start a love affair where we will never part, if you would win my empathy, my ardor and my heart and bring a love light to my eyes—that certain telling glisten, then when I talk, just do one thing. Really, really listen!!!
She finds your fawning chivalry to be rather monotonous, your brain quite adolescent and your physique quite neotonous. Your compulsion to be healthy to her seems dull and boring, which prompts my speculation that you likely won’t be scoring.
Back when we were fragile and our love was first on trial, I was seeking to enchant you with trickery and guile. I feared that final reckoning when one day you’d wake up before I had the chance to do my hair and my makeup.
My mental alarm clock never seemed to fail. I’d haul me to the bathroom, looking snarled and pale— smooth my hair and draw the me you knew upon my face, until the real me was obscured—vanished without a trace.
How many years did I go on with that sad charade, trying to restore in me what nature chose to fade?
Now that all I am is finally written on my face with lines and wrinkles scored so deep that you can easily trace all of my imperfections, what a wonder that you see what you describe as beauty in this face that’s only me!
When you whispered you’d be leaving with the waning gibbous moon, I let your words escape behind the music of the loon. I let the truth go bankrupt in the lapping of the wave. Underneath the full moon, it was easy to be brave.
Beneath the waxing gibbous and the first quarter moon, I seldom thought about the truth that you’d be leaving soon. I turned my back to moonlight to ward off future pain.
My joy could not be sabotaged by its wax and wane.
Under the first quarter, I stifled my duress lest memory of your leaving undermine your fond caress. And though the new moon brought again reminders you’d be leaving, I sealed my eyes against the truth to circumvent my grieving.
Under the waning crescent, resolution slipped away. I pleaded for our meeting to be done in light of day. I was wan beneath the moonlight as our time as one grew shorter. How I dreaded what was coming as we viewed the moon’s last quarter.
Tonight I greet the moon again, standing all alone, listening to your whispers over the telephone. In spite of my avoidance, your leaving came too soon. I finally face its truth beneath a waning gibbous moon.