Un Coup de Feu

Solo

A man there was who poked my heart.
-whose smile was his most perfect art.
Love, he would say, was a joke, 
Too oblivious of a bloke. 

He was the epitome- 
- of quixotism and beauty,
He was mindful of various moments
yet blind to my endearments

He's written countless letters,
One better after another. 
He's written one to me
The words were, oh, but empty. 

Needless to say, I'm head over heels. 
His eyes, his words, his overall appeal
Swore to myself I would let this go 
Why, when, for how long-- I don't know 

I still look into his eyes now and then
Wond'ring where and how he's been 
His words and letters enrapture me still 
I loved him then, I always will.