Her glacial and blistered love is still his sole inclination,
yet she has renounced his compassion a lifespan ago. He clings to her bosom
despite her apathy, yearns to be in her favor though he must traverse the littered
bones of her past lovers, once like hoofed satyrs now faulted by her cold
rejection.
He is bound by her left-over passion locked in a dark and
undergrown garden of his own creation and mistaking a stranger for a long
awaited friend. Onward he stumbles, asking for forgiveness from those unaware
of the path desperate for the mere suggestion of her dim love. Seeking guidance
from counterfeit arbiters of decorum. Yet her harsh approval is arranged upon a
level unreachable even by Hercules himself.
She evinced and proud of what is left to be, knowing that
fate alone shall unroll the shades of the future. Tracking with bare feet
through specious chaos, reaping tributes undeserving of her forgetful cause.
-Johnny V.
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