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Of Me

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When I love, passion crowns me with the best of titles:
The obsessed lover and prince of words.
Thus I may have jeweled her unmatchable beauty with roses of love,
Uncountable and yet unforgotten, but thy angel destroyed my symbolism
Of happiness and what was left of love in my tender heart.

The illuminating colors of rainbow and the flammable sun
Set my wits to hers and drew that faint flush on her admirable looks;
Or my delights for seeing her from so far,
greater than distances separating foes and lovers, and the fire within spreading
through the very depth of mine and burning her description alive.
And now, no more flushes or wits to be given or drawn-swept away
With my subject’s name.

Will the stars of happiness and memory shine again?
And why won’t our great story consummate under the thirteen moons?

Darkness overwhelmed my conscious before thee
And yet, by midnight, I welcomed its return with tears and a half-remembered memory
Of your smiles and moments of grief, happiness and the curious glimpses set on me.

You see that fainting dark star on the bright horizon?
Darker I will remain for as many uncountable days as I have witnessed thee;
My talent will deny privileges of keeping you alive with words;
My agony by hope may bring back hatred for your name and the sight of yours;
But I will challenge darkness for your name to remain scared and never erased.





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