SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Days

Under Construction/Aging/Those Who I Failed

Under Construction (working title)

I seek out your chesnut hair
redder than before
stained with strands of gold
see the familiar hazel eyes
hiding behind a browner pigment
and hear you say
you'd like a tummy tuck
and have your boobs 'done'

Once I get away
I view the cloudy reflection
above the under-lighted vanity
hunching over, wondering
if my own eyes deceive

Silver blades weed
a dying field once Autumn
now brittle and starving
straying from bloodshot eyes
thankful I can still see
while I cannot change
the course of things to come.


What I want to go for is cosmetic surgery can change appearances and how we perceive one another, but also, accepting what cannot be changed and what can be accepted as a natural progression of aging.

In other words, we're supposed to be comfortable in our skin and accept that we cannot turn back the clock. We cannot be ruled by vanity -- the insecurity of knowing we are going to die might drive us to be more appealing, so we cannot sense our own mortality. Just one theory, or part of this insanity. Obviously, we want to be attractive to others.

I want to be direct with this poem and say at the end that I'm preparing to die, knowing I cannot stop the aging process. Nor, can I stop my loved one(s) from changing my image of her and how I want to see her grow old with me.

I also wonder about past loves and where they are now and what they are doing. Ultimately, I'm reminded they will not likely be as attractive as they were before and that seems to ironically end the nostalgic fits that occupy this hapless head.

I muddled through this poem thinking about how I can best describe how I see people affected by thoughts of cosmetic surgery and the little things we do to look younger. I have a more difficult time expressing how I trouble with looking older when I look in the mirror (sometimes I'm trying to change my facial expressions until I can see the boy I used to know). Pathetic.

It's like we lose ourselves as we age and forget who we are and where we came from. I want to stay grounded and connected to who I am and have it be the same for the loved ones around me. I can't stop my children from growing up either. It takes time to accept this aging/changing process. Sometimes, it seems like it is going faster than it should.

I want the mirror to lie until I can get a grip and just accept this process. I want to go back and be in love again the way it used to be -- excited and full of anticipation meeting someone new and not knowing what love had in store. I want that kind of youth to blossom inside of my barren soul, I desire a reawakening that Viagara cannot give. (Just for the record, I do not require it...yet I am looking into testosterone supplements, if my doctor says it's okay, to help me with the energy I desire for sports...that's all!)

I suppose basketball is a part of my younger day, my glory days. Trying to recapture something I lost, gave away, gave up on seems to be some act of seeking fulfillment, maybe unrealistically wanting redemption.

I have wondered what life would have brought me if I had sought out the loves that should have endured instead of travelling down this path that brought me to a happy place, but with a lot of baggage (that I bring from life's travels). I can't have a perfect life, but I wonder if I had some do-overs whether I could correct the mistakes and perhaps positively affect lives that I altered with my selfishness of yore.

If I was man enough, I would have corrected the mistakes of my past sooner. Only now am I wondering if looking up those people I let down would help them or me move forward in life, if I could muster up the courage to salve 25-year-old wounds that likely only fester now in my soul.

The mirror is truth. Every day, I try to get it to lie. I too wish for a magic potion that could heal what troubles inside of me. Let me find acceptance above all else and help me know that the past and where it brings me to the present cannot be changed.