I Must Not Taste Your Tears

I know the bitterness Of your soul, I must not taste your tears- To know. It is clear in your weary- Beautiful eyes, And more scary- To me you become when you put on the mask of smiles. I must not feel- The dampness of your pillow- To know your heart was the kill- Of sorrow. Its a battle for a throne- Between angels and demons. I need not see smoke nor pick a bone- On the battle field nor hear shooting guns. I set my canoe adrift- On the flooding water of your tears. I paddle to your abode the pace of a swift. As a love drunk amour deaf to the cries of his fears. O that you will melt on my shoulder- Emotions molten in a great heat- My obliging soul let your anguish smoulder. Do not go to the cave of your thighs to have your face concealed. I curse my idle hands- Each time I watch your tears- Your troubled cheeks caress With jealousy so bizarre- I burn my hankerchief with a stare- For a stolen chance to care. You are not weeping- Laughter is only sweeping. You are not crying- Laughter is only purifying-Her golden vessel with a rough sponge so hurting. O! let time do the telling- Of the dark metamorphosis of night to morning.