With a voice without wind I beckoned to you
Promising you the river's amber journey.
My tears learned words no tears should ever have to
And all because they never wanted to see
The blackened embroidery across your face.
You never ceased to send me picking roses
From the gardes reaping Ophelia's grace,
Only to discard them in empty copses.
When the maize of sky was cleared by sun and light
It was not mid-day that I wished to caress
But your silk hair that flowed through the sweetest night.
Now I see the dusk in a haze of incense.
With a virginal knife entrenched in my eyes
I still weep for the bright love that never was.
Please tell me what you think
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