Requieting
This thread of remorse is as unconcern
a voluntary hoarding of return,
why force my entity in solaced earn,
new loves promise embraces just adjourn!
The risk at stake is but the matters turn,
the reason for the entry, entries burn.
I am the withering hope, a closet's scorn
a garment of repent, thus merely born!
To live again, as you, would be my worn,
to live as else consents to new reform
would qualify no jury, so conform
is separation's quandary, but the storm!
The lasting trail of mourning, not deceased
as so it is . . . love lost ~ forgotten's form
is sad, but truer than exacting's shorn,
and lower than its eyes . . . cast with forlorn!
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