Upon my murky memory- thy blooming bliss and sweetest kiss,
rich with ruby red blood, had my twinged heart torn by thy tingeing thorn.
Though thy comely complexion was pleading my ardent affection,
thy prominent perfection gave me no dominant conviction.
Despite thy comely complexion, thy heart served all imperfections.
For thy face hid thy true thorn.
The meek ruby roses of Swiss shied from thy alluring sweet kiss,
Even Summer's blooming hawthorn mourns of its torn heart by thy thorn.
Yet thou bloom bright through thy complexion, rejoicing in our affection.
Though thy complexion brightest of all, thy thorns an imperfection.
Plump and pleasing, thy perfection; rich and ruby, thy reflection.
Yet I see thy tainted thorn.
Thou art merely a bleak abyss, wandering with thy blighted bliss.
Yet others find thy tainted thorns merely a fantasy forlorn.
Thy picturesque perfection forgives none of thy imperfections-
charming were thy complexion, yet empty were thy heart's affection.
Pleasant I thought were thy protection against others' dark deflection,
little had I known thy comely complexion was thy deception,
for thy thorn was why I mourn.
YOU ARE READING
ꨄ 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑ꨄ
PoetryLife and Death; Joy and Sorrow. They're just two wings to the same body.
