But these youths were never in love,
they were enamored by the idea they were the above,
and there was never any spark, nor heart-stopping reality,
there was only dullness to hark, and visceral formality,
but it was an infatuation or an unearthly temptation,
for in beginning to end the buds did manage to bloom,
but it was unfortunately Godsend that they were led to their doom,
as they became dancing alstroemerias who possessed fleeting powers,
like the tree of youth blooming with intricate flowers,
but they nurtured not for each other, no,
they nurtured only for this lover's woe;
they left to fend the tendrils of despair,
wherein the leaves tumbled with no care,
and now glimpse the fire of a lover's wrath,
glimpse the fire that these true lovers hath.
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
