My Strayed Lover

The touch of imperfectionality on some naked truth. It burns deep into the flesh of happiness, Yet stands smiling at the laxity of frailty. A drop of legality would have seared the ice. Some degree of excess consciousness couldn't avail indiscretion. So selfish I was, struck the baton to revealing. Tore down the garment of wonderfulness. If only it had wrath a shield against grievous consequences. Strayed from the bareness of my palms, my cherished secret. Caved in the passing-by of history, are acts and actions I adore. Regrets bid me awareness but I annex consolation in satisfaction. Springs of flowing emotions seals my loosed heart. I'm hung to the persistence of negativity. Sunk into contentions so absurd to gamble worth for kinds.