An abundance of elegance.
Oh, how wrong were we to gamble on permanence?
If salvation was our intent,
Why not take a chance on deliverance?
Imprecations struck my ears,
Our house of ill-repute was filled with tears.
Below me, your gardens sank into the harlequin sea,
As I stood idly by, indolently.
Develop from elation,
Into malady and exhaustion.
Souls fated to coalesce,
Eventually, acquiesce.
We begrudgingly bifurcate ourselves.
Transfixed ourselves upon opalescence and ambiguity.
Unwind to find history hidden within my veins and arteries.
A miasma of despair and alcohol,
A soporific antidote steadies the heart.
We’re waking up with blood on the sheets.
Our burning wreckage fades to black endlessly now.