A lover loved now lost could turn a heart to stone,
loves eternal dream now gone, shards of a broken soul littered over the floor,
a lover stripped of love, a hearts that's torn,
a feeble love worth little praise, built with sticks and stones, with a hole in the roof,
enough for a body to squeeze through
not made to hold anyone home.
Condemned by which was once his own, his heart already gone and his soul almost nearly sold,
a love veiled in black mimicked the shades of gold,
at night they had met and at dawn they left, each to their own road, as time has seen not all love was meant to be,
writhing in contempt for it he so wanted to remain true,
as time elapsed and withered bonds that chained his heart and mind too,
a story not blessed by fate could not make it into eternity,
but love was true in truth, too many untrue, made it cruel and cold, elusive to hold.
Letters that littered the floor,
with little to nothing to say, fingers trembling, held him from spinning words that held a dagger to his soul,
his being slit open dyed paper in black
as paintings of a better yesterday slowly stowe away,
his love now nowhere to be found, his heart that crippled him before,
now, a lover to be found.

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