your face remains a study.
a facade, but possess it i must.
seclusion, my dreams awash.
the night screams the vapor of seduction.
the redistribution of my desire
i cannot register it within my soul
the crimson fist of tempting reverie
is the only spark left to make me whole.
tis cruel! tis pain! a mark that shall never soften!
a foil, to tame the gangly beast.
but then i think to myself, in hazy wonder.
maybe tis better, you never know.
happiness can be a bitter cruelty.
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