A rose, honey gilt and studded, a paragon in memento. In the conscience of purity, as such this forged perfection; I bare its form and dream.
Deliverance comes in amble, drifting plains of shade and light, vivid and in colour. Solitude fades in equity of your presence, and I am servant once more.
I tread in gambol amidst flaxen glory and quaff in probity your rectitude. With warmest breath, sage and with veracity, you shine.
By spring to bloom and time to follow, we are forfeit of burden and blithe. In hunger, recumbent and cradled amidst cushions of heather, I am given helpless to blissful tides and swept clean by their flow.
With touch in Caramel, held by beam and bed in amethyst, our lines shape then form. Beneath the drape and needle lace, beyond trappings and stirred, we breathe as one.
Upon thy flesh, given to fidelity and set by favour, the tribute of a rose. Stripped of doubt and naked before passion, we are given in consummation to the fulfilment of the moment.
With each instance in passing, comes more, and dreams hold not eternal.
Beneath the half light and before the shadow, beyond darkness and light – in comfort so tender, with whispers calling, your image embraced and then gone.
As would Orpheus in lament, bring tears, my heart sings for the loss of dreams. In treachery the sun, with light as drinks the shadow gone. Ablaze in candour, the ice of glittering rose and the coldest breath, returns darkness to the soul.
Corrupt by rancour and lost to retribution I am cast to destiny. In chastity of death, I stand alone, before memento, dour and carved.