Please forgive me for interrupting your
quand’ry, lest I solve it for you; Wide open
release is what I seek, not untoward
mock’ry, yet I feel a coming omen.
Bereaved, you assume my delight is made
relapsing back to manipulation
to see, within the depths of your dismay,
collapsing as waves in undulation?
Verily though, to you I do require
but a moment in order to beseech
warily; hidden within your desire,
thrust deep into a well of mired speech:
Would it be enough to ease my sorrow
if he could stay with me ‘til the ‘morrow?
~F









