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Strangers - Heroic Crown of Sonnets part 2

For hearts surrender love so willfully 
but in a script will lie my paramour.
So I’ll abandon old pursuits and free
my mind to let imagination soar.
I’ve found a place to court a writer’s muse;
a 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 thus, regain some solace for my soul.
The essence of soft shadows shall contain
my vow to play a 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 all 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 morning’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,
as feeble hearts seek vain fidelity. 

As feeble hearts seek vain fidelity,
I’ll script love’s folly with my zealous prose. 
And passion’s thirst quilled to the nth degree
will far surpass what blasé’ bards compose.
I’ll bury lust in words upon each page.
Their heat will sear the ink to every line
And as for 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
the morning’s 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 did foretell this destined rendezvous
though not foretelling why she came this way.
To answers why or how, I’ll not pursue,
for what I’d sought was when would come this day. 
She walked inside to shelter from the rain
then raised her eyes to browse the languid room.
She looked at me, 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
and so she swanned the room in couth display.
I watched her as she prowled the parlor floor
then brush my table, pause and look 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 looked 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 those fears could tear my dreams apart,
they found a way to tenderly depart.

Copyright © Mark Massey