Veiled Muse | Bitter-Sweet

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My sweet,

Why do you tremble so

Whenever I approach

And bitter eyes of hollow

In my direction turn?

Why is your tongue so stern

And whence is hid your play?

If only such another

Could weave its malign blood

Into my own again,

Its call I would obey.

Forgive my truant heart

Its skipping beat, and know

That since your favour’s loss

This madness is my gift:

A sightless horror born

Of sugared spleen, and cast

Into a writer’s pen…

Adrift.

*

Picky Tongues