In your blood, I found,
Purely pruned passions, like,
Finely fanned flames, put out,
By the, universe's untimely unfair, trials.

In your eyes, I saw,
Scary sleeping secrets, buried underneath,
Roaring red rage, doused by,
Many teary epihphanies.

In your soul, there lies,
My fiery twinned flame,
With blazing heat aimed, at,
My icy cold mane.

In your laughter, I heard,
Lightly strummed tones,
Echoed by cheerful loud tales,
Told in brightly lit rooms.

In your hands, I'm tempted to keep,
My hardened old heart,
To see if your tender warm hands,
Might be the catalyst for an,
Affectionate everlasting tale.


© The boy who raged, 1683.