"am a fool to have dated you good for nothing bustard"
I miss her...
not in part but the whole.
staring keenly into the starlight, holding a moist black rose
the noises, and the yells slide into my mind
disguised in the garb of a mild mannered doubt,
akin to a spy
flashes of thoughts about my long gone babe
and the truth, the trust, the love, the honor and the freedom
I had deciphered to her
come crushing through the magical beauty of the sky
like asteroids
.....but then a times I could almost feel like the sounds were slithering away
the hurt would linger still
akin to a smell of roses long after it withered on my knees
and to think love has no decency or law
no convention yet no mercy
would be nothing else but convincing.
all I know is that love goes for man's weakest spot...
then my lips would move in rhythm with a memory of her last words
"am a fool to have dated you good for nothing bustard"
a crescendo that climaxed
the wet black rose falls of my hand.
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