She was quick to appoint me the sole trustee of her false needs.
I yearned for her delicate breath, long after she was disposed to relinquish.
I clung to her, as hopelessly as the final leaf in a cold autumn wind.
She, in the end stole my dearest felicity, and carried it off in her tattered valise of empty dreams.
I sink into the seductive melancholy resignation of what little exists.
What once held the sweet scent of lilacs, now raw with the stale stench of unanswered prayers.
Far too many times she cut her name into my battleworn heart.
Still my joy remains, for within the caverns of love there exist no sin beyond forgiveness.
-Johnny V.
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