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* The heart may fall in love unwillfully so, in a script will lie my paramour. Oh manic quest, I've sworn to set you free to let the ink's imagination soar. I’ve found a place to court a writer’s muse; this windowed booth along the boulevard. For now, it’s only penning I'll peruse and charming interruptions, disregard. What pleasure to abandon passion’s pain and resurrect the solace in my soul. The motive of dissention shall contain my vow to play the solitary role. For souls, the bane of true love disenchants, in truth, some souls prefer a tryst romance. * In truth, some souls prefer a tryst romance and freedom from the vows most hearts require, so I shall gaze in sterile countenance and watch temptation pass with blithe desire. I’ll fill my pages with the circumstance so not to have one’s heart put on display. I dare not give my characters a chance for someone's light to take their breath away. As words are spilled upon this journal’s leaf, my thoughts still find a penchant to console, but I will not allow such pointless grief to write the act nor play the leading role. For I shall be a rake and fancy free, A feeble heart seeks vain fidelity. * A feeble heart seeks vain fidelity. I’ll script its folly with my zealous prose, and passion’s thirst, quilled to the nth degree, shall far surpass what blasé’ bards compose. I’ll bury lust in words upon each page. The heat shall sear the ink to every line And faithful love, I never shall engage; for calloused souls are destined to resign. But as I searched for perfect similes and glanced outside my window for a clue, my eyes grew wide, for they were thrilled to see a dash of light ascending into view. Facades of independence hence depart. A soul is but a slave that serves the heart. * A soul is but a slave that serves the heart and flails in presence of true loveliness. The heart commands, therefore I must impart this ceaseless craving yearning for caress. I knew not where would be this rendezvous since not foretelling who may come my way, and answers why or how, I’ll not pursue, for what I’d sought was when would come the day. She walked inside to shelter from the rain then raised her eyes to browse the languid room. She looked my way, then glanced away again, oh, to see such elegance in bloom. To be fulfilled leaves nothing to explore but restless souls, they simply wish to soar. * But restless souls, they simply wish to soar. I watched her swan the room in couth display. She moved with grace around the parlor floor then brushed my table, paused, then looked my way. She pursed her lips and asked me for the time then stood in hush awaiting my reply. But as I tried to speak, as though a mime, my voice fell mute and words just passed me by. I caught my breath then glanced around the room, such trepidation left me little choice. My mind was shrouded with impending doom, for I was not the master of my voice. Before my fear could tear my dreams apart, I found a way to gracefully depart.
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