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Rated: · Poetry · Death · #1228874
Written after reading Othello. Emilia's reflections about Iago after Desdemona dies.
If Only

He hid underneath the masks.
Honesty, trust, bravery
But I saw him.

He knew he held you;
He thought I was his captive.
He suffocated you with charm.
Not me.
I saw it all.
The insincerity; the manipulation
But I never unveiled him.
Why?

Because I loved him.

He was everybody’s ally
And nobody’s friend.

I knew the deceit.
Tactics were just tactics.
He would never hurt them.
Never.

Repeat the words,
Repeat them into truth.

Love is a consuming fire:
A manufactured light.
It exposed you as it blinded me.

Love is a guiding light
Until an innocent soul burns out;
Her cries extinguish my love.

I wasn’t blind to you,
Yet love enveloped me with silence.
I was mute.
Am I to blame?

All the world’s a stage.
Destined to play a role,
Am I to blame?

Love is dangerous.
Forged joy and artificial hope;
The pride of a vulnerable fool.
Am I to blame?

I could’ve exposed you;
Turned the light on you.
But you held my heart
And I am to blame.

Because I loved you.

I would love you ‘til I die.
Now?
In my heart, her blood flows.
The corpse of a once animated body
Now imprisons my guilt.
My truth, carved into her wound.
And I see,

If only I’d have said something …
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