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Opera of A Lonely Love

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100 nights cast my heart ill for you to be away,
I ache to see you, oh why is it you that you can no longer stay?
100 moons feast upon the mid-night sky.
She taunts me to sleep with your lack of voice,
And then I begin to cry.

I am draped upon depression, enormity becoming my only friend.
Oh dear, oh love, is it possible I will never be upon seeing you again.

100 dawns of breaking with insomnia replacing you in my bed.
Sleepless nights feast upon impatience tangled within my head.
100 pure star lit skies take shape of lanterns upon your return.
These flickering candles compare internal compassion in which, for you, I burn.

Memories are reminders tied innocently to my hands.
Strings attached to each of our hearts stretch over miles and miles of pre-owned lands.

100 sun kissed days, which one will become our ultimate preceding?
These immortal sins and shadows insist on continuous feeding.
100 afternoons of conflicting , in which I remember words whispered by you,
“I promise to always return. I could never embrace survival with strength, lacking the touch by you.”

It is the surrounding syllables tied with one another that I can recall,
Those very notes sung give me reason to reject the action to fall.

100 days and nights can only last as the furthest tomorrow and never exceed the presence of today,
For in which I must remain optimistic, if for you I courage survival just the same.

100 agonizing, bright, impatient, marvelous, dreary, incredible, elongated, amazing days and nights.
These build strength within each our ardor and hearts. Giving us bravery owning us to fight.
Days extend into weeks as weeks leak into the arrival of months before I see you again,
Time is yet to be considered an illusion, giving us reason to either pass by or lend.

As if you left tomorrow, today, or upon yesterday.
No matter if you left within the hour each minute feels the same way.
Each hour, each minute, each second, each day, my heart years to see you.
I am possessed by my obsession to be near you, to touch you, to kiss you.

My love, tears kiss lonely ashen bed sheets each and every night.
My dear I am enveloped by unconditional no returning classified fright.
My heart of master oh empathize with my undying plea.
My true bliss, I yearn to place, to hold, to be with thee.
My Romeo we must find courage upon survival; treasure is found by calling you mine.
My love time is merely hypnotic, unless we approach upon his teasing otherwise.
My sweet whisper pleasant nothings to call me to be near.
My dream, let you come upon return to demolish the everlasting fear.
My dear, are you deaf, can you sight.
My heart of master I sing passion for you each and every night,

And thus your presence may award me each and everyday.
I watch your carriage glide up over the hill, far far away.
Nonetheless I know that you will return upon further ado.
It is in that time I will sing three precious, glorious, innocent words to you…

For: A forgotten Love.

December 2010





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