On a whim I pluck petals until there is only stem, was she a gem or something far more grim, how much more of my soul must I trim...
Chivalry cannot die I fastened wings so that it may fly, guard your heart from my eye so that we both don't cry, plug your ears as I ask why, as I await my wisdom from the sky...
She is the past that could not last, the mast that broke free of its cast, the hole left so vast from the blast...
But my heart ticks on like the smell of fresh cut lawn, I thought I was her dawn but nothing more than a pawn, but the void she bestowed is my brawn...
©pcmanpat
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