When once the news would suggest
a man take liberties upon her
every fiber of my being did bristle
for I do so love her, woman.
Her sentimental beauty
a flair, a dash, her supine
figure of mind would oppose
any manner of deceit.
For it is true we the man
of such external thrust
be the being of ignorance
destroy her element of trust.
Standing in the shadows
my heart bleeds at night
a crimson rain of bewilderment
for such is her elegance staid.
Walk alone would I for time
of then might she know we pine.
apersonaljourney - stories of love 