Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur

[billy]

let do a translate first

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i did and i liked it
will do the poem next

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It creeps and trickles down the walls of my mind feels a bit wordy
Through the crevasses of yesterday
Where it lingers like the sickly sweet stench "a" would work just as well as "where it lingers like the"
Of rose gardens rotting after torrential rain
It’s here I find you
It’s here you find me
Sapphires for eyes behind nautical masks
That send us reeling into the past.

You’re reaching out while I’m letting go
No longer the fire to my ice
I don’t melt under your melancholy gaze
That used to have me crumpling
Like a puppet without strings big big cliche
Though I never needed the bindings
When I would crawl to you through
Blackberry thickets and fields of poison ivy
Just to hear your voice
Like molasses in my brain
Sweet and consuming, overwhelming my senses.

Ghosts for memories that brush my skin
Leave it chilled and shivering
My heart constricting in fear
And I can feel you near, always here
Like an unwanted guardian angel
That never had my best interests at heart.
When the beauty of your face
And the heady perfume of your voice
Never could hide the devilish mischief
Barely concealed in the depths of your eyes.

There is a scar on my heart
Ugly and brash, born of impulse and thistles
Where I’ve tried to erase the ink
That bled there in my sleep
Tattooing your name upon my soul
That no bleach nor blade can bleed away good strong line
While no amount of forgetting will ever procure
A fondness for the way things used to be
When innocence reigned, naivety
Held no shame, and hope was beautiful.

And still the realm of yesterdays
Drips into my brain like medieval water torture
As memories and dreams light up the sky
Creating faux constellations
That I could have fallen in love with
In another time and place
Before adulthood beckoned
And I began to grow into myself
Much to the horror of us
While leagues of mentally laced barb-wired fencing
Cannot keep me from floundering in the scent
Of the days that got lost, before our garden of roses
Slipped into the mire of rot.

And now
No amount of love can save us from ourselves.

the two comments would fit a few other lines as well. i like a lot of what you have going on. and i love the title which works well with the content. but it feels very wordy. the enjambment could be done a little better. the barb-wire line is good but the way it's extended takes something away. i think the poem screams out for good grammar and less caps. narration seldom reads as good as it should when done with personal grammar styles. all in all i think it's good enough to do a solid edit.

thanks for the read

billy