Goth Poem #4

your eyes
like something cool and gross and evil and mythological
bore into mine
like something brutal, some tool,
as I felt
like a Victorian literary reference
like an Edgar Allan Poe allusion
was Poe Victorian? I believe
so, but what I believe
doesn't matter now,
for now:

you

have stripped me of belief
of faith
of credibility
in the mascara'd eyes of the creeps we all hang out with
I can't be cool now, for
they have seen
you
pierce my armor
like a sword, an elven-sword, twice-forged - the first as mere steel,
the second in the furnace of legend - and
damn that thing's sharp
you have cloven
my dark armor
my heart
can't play it cool any more

I wub you so mush