You Were Beauty

I feel a mood, colored through personalities—this deep wonder; as traveling seas, this inner world, blessed with your essence; this thing courted by never, to shiver this dream, as letting go with purpose. It shouldn’t challenge—this rope of truths, as knowing it couldn’t glisten: this linen of rightness, to feel sexy with caution, where one sews another partakes; this rich advantage, to stir a demon, where intentions were but moments in time; as knowing this thing, to wonder of more, where satisfaction is a falcon afar; that fatal glance, that inner sashay, those seconds screaming for closure: I resurrect—fueled by passion, letting go in desperation; this friend of woes, rapt in portions, while stumbling asunder: that cry we heard; those days fraught amore—why pigeons mocked these mawkish winds; as impetuous love, founded on beauty, where many have ignored—that hellish mind, those chiseled paragraphs, that zest structured in secrets—that hypertension, that hypomania—those arms reaching where poverty struck—its hard blow, even plus death, this chef of seductions. I loved a secret woman, as swimming near illness, to receive a just reward; so days are camouflaged, where hearts play pretend, while energies swarm ever and anon—this place of comfort, that grand discomfort, to know that love would perish in weeks; this deep deceit, as to structure pash, this thing seeping into love; to find those fingers, steady with a pen, retracing this myth of illusions. I couldn’t but fall, a man to his venture, peering at something cruel: this tale of hearts, that sudden outburst, this inner intuition—those crevices near, too loud to ignore, as this challenge to avoid thoughts; despite such beauty, that moment in gray, where hell was alert to your soul. I’ve sighed at nights, longing for purpose, afraid that love would ruin our waves; as courted through self, this bright infusion, while left to ask forgiveness—for something beige, this grave intrusion, pleased to say, “You were beauty.”