Solemn Adonis and the girl with her guitar

[billy]

strip away all the stuff that says little or nothing, i'm not sure how many time [her] was mentioned but it was a lot.

And yet I know what would happen if she took even the smallest step in our direction-- glanced even in passing at my foolishness--
I would turn away her sweet nectar

if she took the smallest step in our direction;
glanced in passing at my foolishness,
I would turn away her sweet nectar.

there's a poem in there but it needs a lot of work before you need a final edit.
i'm always impressed to see poets doing edits :J:

Revised Version 09/10/13

Virginity. Chastity. Innocence.
Removed from beginner's luck--
The beginner's fucked. fucked as in just had sex or as in screwed over in a bad luck sort of way?
I am a modern day Hercules
To this new age hydra.
I am naive.
I am Samson: Blind, weak, and hairless. pick one or the other, samson wasn't any of these things till these things were done to him, samson was mainly known for his great strength. i'd suggest something like [i am a white worm.....]
This perfection is the best contrast to my constant dysfunction.
Even in wanting you, I do no right. lines like these say very little and make even less sense.
The night finally came, and in meditating on your solemn Adonis,
I caught myself disinterested. again it feels unnecessary.
Checking out the girl at the front of the bar.
The subtle curve of her back. cliche
The flowing frame of her lush
Brunette fringe on her i'd suggest losing [her] and moving the next line up
Broad cheekbones.
Her skin something between velvet, alabaster, and a bright, glowing Dahlia.a blend of
The lucky denim that caresses her perfect thighs.
Her immaculate, delicious, ripe lips.
And yet I know what would happen if she took even the smallest step in our direction-- glanced even in passing at my foolishness--
I would turn away her sweet nectar
And long fondly for solemn Adonis.
Statuesque. Handsome. Ethereal.
Like a plague, I carry the sandstone in sweeping red waves.
Needing. Longing.
Always having yet always wanting.
It is finished only in remaining incomplete.

Ouch that hurt.
Solemn Adonis wants no part.
Wise Adonis,
Saving the trouble of something I could never make work.
And yet it feels like drowning.
The strange rush of a faceless imagined love couples with the knowledge that it would not be him.
It melts and swirls like steaming sauce on a summer cone,
And burns and is sweet and is thick.
Number one, she is the same.
I can never know what she wants,
And I'll never tell.
The fantasy of movie happiness gets swallowed deeper and deeper.
The scene I don't think I'll ever want,
I don't think I'll ever get,
I don't think will ever fulfill me.
But it feels like I've lost something.
I've lost the ring that was never mine and that I didn't want
And that won't surface.
Sometimes knowing is hurting,
And hurting like this doesn't feel good but there isn't another way.
I don't know any other way.
Sitting terrified of getting back what was lost forever and never even mine.

Virginity. Chastity. Innocence.
Removed from beginner's luck--
The beginner's fucked.
I am a modern-day Hercules
To this new-age hydra.
I can love your beast into submission. I am naive.
I will always be.
Samson: Blind, weak, and hairless.
She finished.
It's hard being the one you need,
Seeing the blank helpless face on each day.
I owe you so much yet have so little to give.
I am weak. I am green.
I am too young and I am too old.

This perfection is the best contrast to my constant dysfunction.
Even in wanting you, I do no right.
The night finally came, and in taking in your solemn Adonis,
I caught myself disinterested.
Checking out the girl at the front of the bar.
The subtle curve of her back.
The flowing frame of her lush
Brunette fringe on her
Broad cheekbones.
Her skin something between velvet, alabaster, and a bright, glowing Dahlia.
The lucky denim that caresses her perfect thighs.
Her immaculate, delicious, ripe lips.
And yet I know what would happen if she took even the smallest stem in our direction-- glanced even in passing at my foolishness.
I would turn away her sweet nectar
And long fondly for solemn Adonis.
Statuesque. Handsome. Ethereal.
Like a plague, I carry the sandstone in sweeping red waves.
Needing. Longing.
Always having yet always wanting.
It is finished only in remaining incomplete.

Ouch that hurt.
Solemn Adonis wants no part.
Part adds up,
Part just hurts.
Wise Adonis,
Saving the trouble of something I could never make work.
And yet it feels like drowning.
The strange rush of a faceless imagined love couples with the knowledge that it would not be him.
It melts and swirls like steaming hot fudge,
And burns and is sweet and is thick.
Number one, she is the same.
I can never know what she wants,
And I'll never tell.
The fantasy of movie happiness gets swallowed deeper and deeper.
The scene I don't think I'll ever want,
I don't think I'll ever get,
I don't think will ever fulfill me.
But it feels like I've lost something.
I've lost the ring that was never mine and that I didn't want
And that won't surface.
Sometimes knowing is hurting,
And hurting like this doesn't feel good but there isn't another way.
I don't know any other way.
Sitting terrified of getting back what was lost forever an never even mine.

------
I was entirely un-calculated with form on this one and decided I'd see what happens organically. Let me know if it's something that might need remedying!