he could barely look at her
through russet-trimmed lashes that flicker away the moment hers meet
the faint whisper of a smile vanishing from his face
overshadowed by a stark grimness of melancholic feelings
she and her brightness fade away
meteor slashed red, gold and crimson
ribald of colours that echo the fluttering beat of
a heart that once ago was healed

is it called love
when your heart accelerates like the rush of wind from lungs
as you descend towards the earth in a frenetic haze of anxiety
and the world around you stands at a snail's cheery gait
as the object of Petrarchan's admiration lies painfully close and yet
so heart-achingly distant?

you break living in a world of tainted effigies
hurt torn tattered and bruised
a life of hurtful alliterations meant to misuse
love not come to aid
for wisdom speaks from the croaked voice of a crone with halitosis
you weep a wounded cry of the wolves in the nightsky
a hunter without his prey nothing but a man in his land
alone alone alone wonder the existence of his life