Let comfort dwell with those who truly seek
But nay, agony sinks within the heart.
Oh how the candlelight throws flares of bleak
Like wrinkled fingers casting with a dart.
The pillows reek of decayed supplicance,
The room, a paradox of love and hurt:
Here, solace only dwells inside your trance,
Oblivious of the litanies you spurt.
If tears could forge relief I’d let you weep;
Two waterfalls I’d let your eyes become,
But the anguish within has sunken deep
So tell despair for now that she has won.
Today, the clouds move slowly as in fear:
Perhaps your distress has one day to spare.