“True love, to whom my heart is prey, how dost thou hold me in thy sway, that in each day I find no fault but daily wait for love’s assault.” ~Pernette du Guillet, circa 1545

Mortal bliss called love is fleeting.

I’d pursue your scent dancing on the breeze. Your eyes they find me when I am bleeding. Your embrace alone puts my heart at ease. Your kiss sends a ripple from my lips to my soul. Your hands hold my face, no longer broken I am whole.

I die a little each day without you, because in love I truly lived. I grieve the loss of what we shared. I smile when I remember the way you used to give. You surrendered your heart, trading each beat with mine. You granted me love, a blessing divine.

You whispered your secrets that dripped from your lips. Searing my skin with invisible tattoos forged with each kiss. I knew happiness with your head on my chest. You shared your thoughts in the silence between breaths.

In the heat of our passions, your legs used to quiver. In the cold of your absence, my body can only shiver. I once looked upon you, my eyes filled with trust. I am now a man made of tin, paralyzed by rust.

You were truly my moon. For you affected my mood. Each night without you, I sulk and I brood. These are the waves, the crash of my emotions. The depth of my love rivals the oceans.

You punish me with silence, you torture me with desire. You have brought me to my knees, the situation is dire. I’ve lost all logic and make no sense of reason. I am unhinged, I am a breeze out of season.

I am lost to the world, after having lost you. This is no mortal bliss, my dear; this is a love that’s true.

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