In adoration's delicate gleam,
a story is told,
Of hearts weaved in dreams of gold. However shadows sneak,
in secret sight
, Double-crossing murmurs as the night progressed.
Gracious, whimsical heart, so profoundly torn,
By promises once made, presently brutally worn.
An affection once unadulterated, presently stained with lies,
An ensemble of genuine cries.
In delicate murmurs, guarantees made,
Presently broke, similar to a delicate cutting edge.
The glow of trust, presently went to ice,...