"The Neophyte" — A Poem

by Julianne Day Ignacio 

He thought himself to be
a neophyte intellectual
who lacked pretension
and survived
his existential dilemma.

He was a puzzle in her eyes,
preferring to dwell
dark and deep in thought.
Each night
he composed notes,
strumming his fingers
through mental chords,
striking up a match,
shaking jolts through systems,
shattering conventions
as he poured out
his soul,
the vocal fuel
for future generations.

He played them all,
charmed them
with his charisma
leaving them
breathless,
blinded,
rapt by the drumming
about rationalizing
the self.
Was he
philosopher
or charlatan?
Whereas he was lonely
a soul
still lost, grasping
signs that would prove
the tangibility of his own truth.

He struck up a conversation,
summoned up his charm,
his weapon his gentle persuasion,
as he blithely blew his game plans
into the seamless curve of her ear,
knowing the risks, knowing
that she’d leave him
winded,
shooting the breeze about
his scars
sunk beneath his psyche.

She was half-tempted to grab the spade,
twice-enticed to forge her verbal blade,
deciding, at last, to pick up the scalpel
and knit her way through the fibers
cloaking his core
unwinding, testing out the theory of
how long until he gives in
and shows her she’s more
than just
a constellation
in his rose-tinted sky.

But she refrains, restrains
her own desire.
She smiles and feigns indifference
to his mad scheming
as her analytical wits crackle
with the spark that started it all,
the spoken verse that struck a chord
and cursed her with the scalding imprint of
his asymmetrical smile
burned into the folds of her memory
and scored in her heart.

And all she could think at the moment,
The higher you soar, the greater the fall.
She could have kissed his wounds,
brushed her lips along his temple,
but as they stood face-to-face
she realized
that the damage
had already been done
long before they collided.

“You’ve got a crack in your crown, my darling,”
she cried softly, reaching up,
wondering how he could be
so fluent in theories of love
yet so flawed in practice.

 

CategoriesPoetry
Julianne Day Ignacio

A bonafide bookworm, self-proclaimed nerd, Austenite, Whovian, and cat-lover, Julianne Day Ignacio is a born-and-raised Brooklynite who loves to listen to a good story and help others cultivate their writing and storytelling skills. Julianne received her Master's degree in Media Studies and Certificate in Media Management from The New School. You can find her crafting new content and updating the social media outlets for Verge of Verse, snapping photos on Snapchat (@jdayignacio), or chilling out at a cafe or park as she writes about her discoveries and her adventures in the city.

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