Wednesday, March 09, 2011

The Great Gatsby

I saw on my yahoo news ticker this morning that the mansion that is believed to have inspired 'The Great Gatsby' is going to be torn down. The Great Gatsby is one of my all-time favorite books, I could read it over and over again. I wrote this poem a couple of years ago based around the same concepts as the book. Occasionally I'll remember something and want to share it again, not so much because I want others to read it but because I want to read it myself and have it present again in my life, just a click away... is that silly?

A 'Great Gatsby' Kind Of Love.

We had a 'Great Gatsby' kind of love:
him on the side and me in the middle.
Loved but not.
The twinkle in her eye would kill me
her melodocious laugh haunt me.

This place was built for her.
Generations of old money turned to dust,
all for her.
Anything she wanted, all she could ask for
handed to her on my own silver platter.
Along with my heart.

Rolling hills, cobble paths, ponds, trees;
her dreams.
I would have given my life for her
but in the end, I suppose I did.
So much for nothing; a ransom without a note.

Her prize possession left behind double doors.
I could stand it no more.
The shine was still there, the cold, slick touch.
Not a scratch to be found.
This was her baby.

If I could, I would destroy it myself.
Light a match, watch it burn:
out of my existance, forever gone.
But I can not, will not;
her love still flows within my blood.

The feel of the purple leather againt my skin
sends shivers up my spine.
Memories flood the banks of my mind:
her and him, her and I.
Rumbling to life silently,
the tears fill my eyes.

To bury her was the easy part.
It was coming home to this car.
It was coming home to an empty home.
It was seeing him standing alone, his heart torn.
It was the memories impossible to leave behind,
heart-wrenching memories.
They were the bullets that penetrated my soul.

Parking at her favorite spot,
atop this bridge, that was built for her:
her name engraved within the stone;
I am not strong.
I am not a man.
I am lost within the caverns of a broken existance.

This is where her baby belongs:
at the bottom of a shallow grave.
Left for the earth and water to slowly eat at her;
just like my soul-mate, my love.

I watch as it rolls into the silent depths,
the sound of the splash unheard over my roaring mind.
Here is where it belongs.
The fog is rising around me,
the night falling quickly.

Turning, I begin my trudge towards a home:
a home that is no longer my own.
My suit is warmer than what I ever remember it being:
her favorite suit: all black with no tie.
My face is hot with tears,
spilled for her, for her baby and mostly, for me.

I wonder where he is,
if he feels the way I do.
Like an animal after it's prey,
we were victims of her game.
The fault all her own.

Like a story ended in tragedy,
tears were shed as the cover fell closed.
She pulled us into a 'Great Gatsby' kind of love.
Only to leave two men broken,

I can't help but think that I loved her first,
and that fact, makes her mine.
But the true question exists in the back of my mind;
was it him or me that she dreamed of at night?

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You don't know just how lovely you are...thank you.