I’m effusively bellowing inside.
Internally drowning from within,
Tears no longer mine but hers.
For the death of whom I’m crying.

Icicles in the moonlight now seem colder to me.
Cold yet they still warm my heart.
Sights of frost will certainly,
Make shudder, lovers apart.

Those who have lost are in torment temporary;
Torment which distance brings.
If only they knew they would be again,
No significance would there be for rings.

She choreographed a dance as old as time,
Men moved to her demands.
Butting and rutting for her attention they crave,
With expectations of fanciful chance.

Never will it be, for her intention is to self satisfy.
Dangling the bogus carrot of possible love,
In front of their antlers, only to turn away,
As soon as she deems it enough.

But wherein she choreographs, and that with which she conducts,
Plays success but only for short,
Since consumption of razzle dazzle, done so for long enough,
Will guarantee her life be cut short.

Knowledge of this is information on which to act.
Act we can, but listen with open ears and mind she will not.
And so she brings us to the sorrowful point,
Although temporary, bare this torment I cannot.

Such a cruel and foreseeable demise predicted by all.
Foresee it she could not since blinded by her origin,
Of facile masks which paved her the way,
And follow with closed eyes she did, to her ending.

On such innocence will the masks master play.
Naivety and kind willingness he will hunt,
For the trustworthy targets, easy to accumulate,
Using pornia to distract as males bunt.

Impetuosity creates murky waters,
Through which we move, blinded.
Restraining rules allow time through which
We move still sightless, yet reminded.

Let those you love be perfectly themselves,
For one’s own image they must not bless,
Else, the reflection of yourself seen in them,
You’ll love of your own best.

Physical relations we must bestride,
For skipping ahead means missing some.
Prevailing beauty such as yours,
Of you I shall miss none.

Any beauty within my heart is from that,
Which I see, smell, hear, taste and touch,
That of you, by whom I am overwhelmed,
I never deem too much.

Pay heed, More haste, Less speed; no waste.
Only that of time could be argued,
But when we relate with our utmost love,
It is time, but only used.

All the things you call me,
I admit, I have once been.
Any pain you feel for me,
Is all of my own doing.

All my complaisance,
My aggression; Suffering long,
I Know now, the cause;
Everything that was wrong.

Self righteousness over modesty.
Of myself, a forceful expounder.
Eminence devoid of morality.
To be refined and not to flounder.

Humble and quiet humility;
Beautiful virtues of ones own critique.
Sowing personal strength of longevity,
Ones gallantry, others may seek.

Black crimson bleeds over the cold grey,
Licking at the dust; a slow trickle to the iron grate,
Down and further down into society’s waste,
Ironic; its gravely detrimental cause becoming its destination.
Thus leaving an ugly depiction of this world’s affects,
On the poor, the lonely and the vulnerable.
Left to implant fear of consequence to that of rejection.
Ugly is the truth, though the concept contrary,
For it’s just what we seek as we live.
Is it what we find as we die?
And so the result of the effects of this world,
Return to the contemptible.

Cool, dark steely shade surrounds elegant
icicles quietly shone upon by,
The quiet moon through the crisp, clear night air.
And so water does flow escaping the
white stillness, channelled by the glassy flakes,
Encroaching its misty path

Did you remember me? How would I know?
I can’t remember what I do not know.
I heard all sorts of pieces about you
But the final picture I couldn’t view
For you said nothing, did nothing, ever.
You went away and now gone forever,
I know you more so than anybody.
Your heart, mind and soul I part embody.
I wish it were sooner. You might have stayed.
Just think, with you I may have even prayed.

An image in my imagination
Is all I have for extrapolation
Of the person you were and yet could be
Guided by love that is given for free.
Free it may be, but not without payment.
The payment is made. Will you be acceptant?

Love is the answer.
Love… is the answer.
Love is always the answer

Love… is the way.
Love is the way.
Always.
Forever.