Good Gentleman, Good Lady, oh I wish that
you could see –
There’s sincere truth that comes with Civility,
A certain charm lies in my heart
Begging for yours to stay
Until tomorrow, for just another day.
Having parched my heart with burning scorn
Drier still like the Sahel, the Corn
Of my love cannot flourish,
In an Empty garden – fruitless
Are my efforts – unless collaborated with
your prowess
For your secret utterance so sweet
Yet Devious, fell
from the ivy tree
Strangling your
ability
To love a soul
(minus your own)
Hearing the
magnitude of the fall -
For Hours I
perched, alone; afraid
For your echoing
Voice haunts me, above my grave
Slipping out and in
Those weak and
crumbling shelves of terror
Heavily Stowed
away – my mind is a Mirror
Crushed,
shattered, splintered, broken –
Nothing can fill
space left - the words unspoken
Misery
ubiquitous, hopelessness lost
The Frosty
whispers chill
Our Flame,
hardened, brittle – still.
