She
gave me life, as late this outcome, to stir the width of prose. I loved
blindly, for barely a clue, imbued by essence. It was salient depth, this cross
of lives, as specious as the truth. I love your silence, to probe this psyche,
as compelling as hidden forces. How to hold you—as succinct the pain, the
warmth of a cup of tea? I feel you deeply, to never catch your gaze, the verve
of this enchant; for acacia vines, that plunder consciousness, the fuel of this
zeal; as laughed by some, to feel so little, this message of atmospheres. I
hate control, to loathe its absence, this internal paradox; as dressed in
cedar, this lotus of flowers, the degree of our distant woes. I couldn’t to
find, a reasonable reason, as to become deeply enchanted; for this is love, the
absence of whys, the cries of
treacherous rest; to see you flourish, as gray the feeling, this midnight
brilliance. I saw you jingle, in a room so cold, as one so equipped. It plagued
a thought, the walk of love, a canopy to a giant. I see us breathing, for
enchanted rarely, as captivate by fluidity. Just ponder the thought, this trek
of trains, as distressed as an absent gesture. I knew a dove, to reckon her
soul, to amble the opposite direction. I left her blank; she left me plane; the
motives of our absence; as one desolate, but filled with joy, the paradox of
our commission. I’ll walk away, as one insane, to challenge your studies; of
pearly gold, the fold of charm, as the decay of winsome urges. It couldn’t be,
this shake of dust, as spurned by a locomotive; so more to death, this inner
life, to breed as nonchalant. I heard a voice, to soothe a soul, to pardon my
deep infraction; so heaven's fair, as sandals and straps, to growl at the
outcome.
