Bishounen
by Marga-sempai

(Editor's Note:  This poem is actually an edited version of one originally written by the author in 2004.  When the author looked at it again, she realized it was more appropriate to describe Gackt.)

you remind me of virtually:

...every fallen angel

who's given it all up,

the ones who offer the greatest

sacrifice

to achieve the greatest

miracle;

...every young pagan sorcerer

who would move heaven and earth,

who would destroy whole

dimensions

to prove his love to

glowing

inspiration;

...every noble, quasi-medieval knight

who would slay dragons,

who would gladly quest into lands

unknown

to rescue the fair damsel

in distress.

but, seriously:

it would be

overkill

to make the mistake of

over-romanticizing

you.

you're not much to look at:

pale, thin,

restless, waifish,

youthful despite the

passage

of three decades –

or was it four centuries?

hair in constant flux

once flaxen

now raven’s-wing

i want to pull a comb

through,

run my fingers

through;

eyes shifting

from sky to scarlet to sable –

brooding, sarcastic, sentimental stare

you intrigue me

and people find my fixation

odd -

but what do they

know?

what's not to like?

elfin smile

brightening your

pale face

smooth, deep voice –

hinting of deep passions and forbidden

pleasures;

aloof, secretive

demeanor.

what i'd do

for one smile

or to hear the

sound

of that

voice!

it's a pity it'll

take you

forever

to

understand.

i've had my fill:

of castillian snobs

and would-be-docs,

of oxford bards

and publishers' brats,

of sailors' sons

and celtic gods.

no hollywood hunks for me,

no beefcakes,

no boys-next-door,

no princes on white chargers -

no kidding.

i've no need of

meaningless

pretty boys.

between:

a wraithen man

from someplace

far away,

who thinks not

like most men,

who smiles

like a demon prince,

yet sings with

angelic

voice

and

some silly-grinning

loverboy

with babes on a

string,

who chases after

skirts,

his manner glib and

insincere -

there is no contest.

someday:

i'd like to cup your

face

in both my

hands

and try to make you

understand

that no one is lovelier than

you.