It has been a long wounded war! A purposeless respite from the torrent of twisted fables I know all too well. Alas, but only a year’s time has left me with sundry regrets.
The quill has always been close, and that is why my echoes have been inscribed here, though it seems foolish to my restless self:
Alluring signals fade all Promises to another Theirs of velvet scream The silence of a watched soul Heralds mark the beats Of lips parched from moist truth A back stretched of stripes From her coveted graces Bear losses of his wonderous war Hands, shaking this vortex of desire To behold the wonder - My heart does plunder! Beneath her tailored grace As your eyes do widen And your smile does brighten For unequal elation does conquer All love masked in the arrogant past
What affection kindled in the summer shining! What warmth spread across our two souls and bathed the earth as well!
Yet the autumn always brings a rush of cooler air. Its grey heart always chastises the brash minds.
Truth is, the season is ready. But there is a river run dry. A desert stream lingering between the faint hope of another rare fulfilling and an imminent famine.
I will not water the soil, with what little I have left. I am, quite honestly, too afraid to allow the summer relish to takeover again.
In these autumns I currently remain, watching as the masses dance in their summers.
Perhaps one day, I will love again.