For You.

Poetry.

Unadulterated;

I have but one request:

That silence may reign, and silence may journey.

Do not follow the road you’ve already forgotten,

Let me lay, lay me to rest.

 

There is no come hither glance in this room;

I seem to have forgotten why I was seated.

On a chair,

And, oh! How you loom,

Conceited, greedy doom.

 

What more can I expect from a man with no claws,

To fiercely hold onto his beloved,

To adore, to cherish, to covet.

But – ah – this void attached;

Be still, my beating heart.

 

Mayhap, you are a jest-

A wicked waning of my soul?

Be not afraid,

Be on the rise, oh true moon,

For there is no melody, yet.

A joyous demise.

 

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