Would I possessed the skill to pen unending lines
Of courtly love and undying affection
Yet words have no meaning within the heart
Poised to surrender itself to itself
Would that my vaults were filled with jewels rare
Such metaphors of passion deep and sweeping
Far into the valleys of my aching soul
Dry from lack of Time with you
Would that my eyes could see no beauty for
They would only long to praise you
As your silhouette melts away the blasphemous
Creations of lesser, unskilled gods
Would that the depths of this yearning were
For all accounts only a stubborn fantasy
A dream you say that will not leave me
Yet haunts me in the daylight
No comments:
Post a Comment