A Love, Lachrymose

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Beneath the surface
Of cold gray stone,
Softer than silk,
More brittle than bone,
A fragile piece
Of precious art;
A barely beating
Broken heart.

A heart once filled with
Passionate fire
Doused and destroyed
with deadly desire
Remnants of ruin
Ashes and dust
The wreckage wrought
By unrestraint lust.

A soul teeming with life
Quickly aged old
Once vibrant and warm
Now darkened and cold.
A tragic unveiling
Of love gone to waste
Now frigid in feeling,
Acerbic in taste.

An imprisoned existence
Filled fully with fear
Shrouded in sorrow
Yet arid of tear.
Void of all passion
And fallen apart,
The unfortunate fate
Of a young foolish heart





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