Love's Despair

She is beautiful, how can she not be married
Her hair like midnight flowers falls down
Her lips like the petals of a rose
Her eyes like distant planets
She would make a night-watcher of me
I would map the sky to describe her beauty
I would lace her royal throat with stars
And all in vain

Her tenderness is childlike
I would kill the man that did not cherish her
For every rich and strange layer of her. . .

The lines of her figure cannot be defined by the artist
His hand aquiver would not dare to stain the canvas
With what it cannot understand

She makes me sick
She makes of life a death
I am blind
I am bound
I am lost
In love

From such love there is no return
Even words are redundant
Meaningless in the face
Of such hopelessness. . .