It carried a thousands swords,
waging internal wars.
Questions of
Love's
Tender, bitter hatred.
(The moment's never faded)
"Caress me with a fantasy?" I ask,
Soon drowned in an empty flask,
Begging for
REALITY:
Lies placed tactfully
Decietful tastes pressed upon the lips
Of an anti-mistress,
Slips of the "L",
And a pale
Smile.
All the while,
Wanting, needing, feasting
For truth in it's meaning.
There!
Photograph's framless state of jubilation?
No!
Tis True Love's wicked temptation!
...
What difference
exists,
Between dreams of
a queen
And denying the erroneous
Speculations of my Loneliness?
Sans these thoughts and this trial;
I've burned memories to forge my denial.
