After Gymnopedie 1;
A ring on her finger holds her complete.
Memories of happy days have delayed
The messages imprinted into gold—
But her lips are cold, lacking appetite;
Once the red color of passion, a rose
Forgotten, has been left wild by choice.
As rainfalls suffer into the ocean,
They shout and detest poems of desire
With intricacy and persistence, like
Soft fingers opening a diary,
To abandon the anxieties of one’s mind.
The Pages are marred by silence,
Chosen scriptures carefully underneath lamplight;
The pen expresses violence, the ink
Marries the quietness of the paper
To an impetuous grief– different,
Another memoir is written in black.