Dawn on me, Your shade of comfort, In my place of great sorrow. Hellish disdain, Among great pain, Has left me open, To the option, of having you near. And you are what is called, “Believable”.
A great love, has left its mark, Upon a heart, fleeing in dark. A notion I’ve made clear, Under stars so bright and cruel, That I’ve seen plains full of flame, And cities full of shame. I’ve seen what I cannot clear, From my mind nested in weathered tear, Brought down upon frigid knees.
My love is a great castle, Of knights and bishops combined. Upon when I kiss Your divine and splendid shoulder, That beams from heat I know not where, I see two faces and two eyes, Merrily meeting without any disguise. There is no deceit among us, in this feat, Nothing wrong among us in our great heat.
A wilderness around us, Mournful trees about us, Two moons, One brighter than the other, Two faces, Of yours and mine. I see from your divine shoulder, A mark that I’ve left. Is it a love you’ll say to be a surety?
Your kind face sends a path for my awakening, I slept a breathless sleep. Beneath myself, Over myself. You have the world before yourself, And I have seen it, in my worst fears. You have a face, full of light, And I have two eyes, full of fright. What is worse, my lady in distress? The place I’ve made vacant next to you, Or the place I’ve made vacant in my heart? There’s my devotion, crawling atop sea and sand.
Love is a great kindness, Or so I thought. Palaces were those grand structures, Of so much wealth. Those beneath the whip of poverty Were under the whip of envy. They viewed before them, What they’d not raise themselves to possess. And, when I see you before me, I see myself having once lost, And then having discovered, The grandest of lost treasures.
My ire spurs reigns atop a carriage made of metal, A fire burns and stains, this heart with crudest petals.
I believe in a love without its pain, But it is only my delusion.
I wished upon a time, To breathe fragrances without the stench of death, To view cheeks of red without the touch of humiliation, Though, I’ve become my own illusion.
There is a face that I occasionally come to kiss, even in the dark of night. When torment has been my medicine, from a bottle that I drink to sink pain beneath my chest, I think only of her.
I think only of a woman, who has blackest hair, and darkest eyes.
I think of my failings, my undoings, or any small inaction that I form into the guilt of a man committing murder. I am dramatic by my heart, and fallen by my mind. My mind thinks, and it ponders while it wanders, because guilt has been my necessity. I love with a powerful love. I crave the burn, the sensation that drives me to thrill.
She has embodied that.
The burn, that is, and her form is a chaotic form, of bruised flesh that I have been aiming to make wholeness; for I would offer pleasure, and more-so the love. Her face is what I have found, to be desirous for my many kisses. I have found all of love in her, in its greatest definition conceived by me. Oh, love! It is an emotion, alike a fire, a conflagration, to burn my sins so that it is all I witness.
She is the beauty, and the task to which I devote my time. She is the woman of sentiment, and no photographs would I burn.
For the thrill of love, I commit myself to madness, to sadness, and to gladness; and I adore each sensation, clung upon them like a man I am, with claws, like upon skin that would not tear.
I see her eyes swimming in tears. I am devoted and loyal. I do not worship, but remain at a distance to see the ocean that show whatever loneliness is left to purge. And I cross them, and throw the water aside.
I see tears, and I swipe them away. I see the moon folding its pallid hues over herself, and I collapse the moon. I see the sun offering a greater love than myself, and I destroy the sun. I want no sadness for herself, though for me, for I will grow terrible to thwart away the disease called “distraction”. No sadness, and no misery, for herself.
“The emotion is alike the beast. Too wild to be free at the ultimate state, and too large to be truly caged. We, as humans, cage animals, for we cage emotions. We, as humans, believe ourselves to be beyond emotions. We, as humans, both cage ourselves, and the emotions we will enclose in our heart. The emotion is alike the beast. When free, it will roam, and we then have allowed it to escape us. We are without humanity through this action. The emotion should, in fact, be kept on a leash. With only enough freedom for movement, and enough control of the master to pull it backwards. The leash, however, is never unbreakable. For the emotion may be the beast with wings, or the beast with strong legs. Allow it to be truly free, and it will escape into total darkness. The master will search, being forced to search a void.”