Gatsby
You can't repeat the past
Reinvention
The social scene
Notoriety
An age-old caprice
Opulence
That’s the American Dream
Anything to get the girl
Anything to soothe the need
Polished
Like a marble queen
The illusion feels like
Narcotic supreme
His hope is boundless
Like the emerald sea
All this for love
All this for a childhood dream
The anticipation
Of losing control
Elusive
But completely exposed
He smells like new money
Now everyone knows
This idyllic desire
Will never let go
Adoration
Patience is cold
Fast cars
Yellow brick roads
Taking the fall
On the lonely way home
Chasing the past
Still dying alone
About the Creator
Ingrid Hoyos
Former journalist. Freelance writer. Perpetually curious. Painfully creative. Poetry is my outlet.
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