- June 15th, 2016.
Blind, cometh man, he who
Hath sworn his due
In taverns unsighted by
Those waving their lovers
Good-by.
Tremble doth the lips of
Oath-bearers that love
Beyond what they can;
For loneliness, soft
Shall keep thee aloft
Until the next light thou
Withstand.
In dreams weary
Thy words flee
Through woods of
Extraordinary
Shapeless filigree,
Stained by blood in each
Cough.
This poem, milady,
Shall tell to thee
Tales rather of sorrow;
Of how thy dear he
Bareth his body
Into embracing the
Overmorrow.
Blinded, cometh man, he who
Drank in poisonous rendezvous
Of promises and Elpis—
Pity be for those
Who fail to devour the verbose
So let us hold our hands in
Peace.
***
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