Image result for bird in renaissance painting

Beauty doesn’t care,

Yet layer after layer you wear,

And when you go, I follow you there

To honor and kneel to you, with your beautiful flare.

You decided, when you saw me staring,

To punish me, stupid, for caring,

Stupid, thinking that for me burnished, singing beauty is blaring,

Stupid, thinking beauty is thinking

Of me. Beauty, layered, sinking

Into death, aging, finally stinking.

Remember? Beauty, starry, blinking,

Indiscriminately smiling and winking

At the plumed bird staring?

I was punished for caring:

Beauty that winks, beauty that doesn’t care.

Everything that winks and blinks ends

In death. Everything that way tends.

Your beauty disdains my stare,

And if I care, or do not care,

The care is in my heart,

My confused, enchanted heart,

Plagued from the start,

By a beauty now dying,

My poem almost happy in the truth of its crying.





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