Pure Perfection

PURE PERFECTION . . . Mirror broken, shard's outspoken Piercing, rupturing, into my heart No prisoners taken, her life token Devoured, as latest thirst fulfilled Appetite quenched, now plied art As sly innuendoes, master skilled A journeyman of no consequence Thoughts brims, he can only blart Ill poised, insecure, inconsequent Others taken in by this false farce So he waits on others info to part As his truth found, is more sparse What life, left inside of her, awaits Her wounds heal, new life to start Makes notes of his narcissist traits Waits her turn, given no objection A fury unfurled onto this dim clart Fulfils a dream, of pure perfection Indiana Shaw . . . "A Terza Rima of sorts" . . .