My love, what hast thou seen beyond
This cage our hearts had, like webs, wrung
And smiled upon, and loved so fond?
Tell me, rend mine heart – pain be sung!
What hast thou let succumb our bond?
Woe, woe… Despair in minute happiness,
Light waned to darkness, hardly felt in pain.
Indeed, mine heart hath split in black and bliss:
This freedom is like angel’s drink in rain,
Yet true peace from thee is what I most miss.
Dear Arthur, fallen to my touch,
How have us two – like sand and sea,
Blue skies and their white clouds – let crush
Our symphony of seren’ty,
Our bodies ‘twined til cheeks turned blush?
Naught, o Maxine, but all and everything.
Thine hands are but the warmth shy cold avoids,
And while I need such warmth, I too take wing
To flight from thee, leaving my soul devoid,
Hoping for what the horizon mayth bring.
Allow my touch; relax, my love.
Let burn thy stiffness to the fire
And free the feathers high above
That only could lead where retires
This strong resistance tend’d to strove.
Ah, Maxine, sweet, my sweet Maxine!
How deep the depths my love doth reach beneath
This bed so venomous which we have seen –
Nay, have made! To each other, we bequeath
This Hell and Heaven so beautifully obscene.
As if Azrael’s hands seized hold,
Mine heart takes leap and fall to thee;
It rests within thine hand, so cold
And so fragile for this to be;
And only could of its chains mold.
Am I thy love or plague, ocean or flame?
Do I pur’fy thine heart in light divine
Or bury like a tomb thy will like game?
How long mine hands to make once more thee mine,
But misery doth rent such passion tame.
My love, my love! O, my Arthur!
Is not love’s misery the price of life,
The geyser that cools slow aft stir
And delivers a sight so rife
With beauty, none cannot concur?
My heart is like a vine – contort’d,
Twist’d from this petal of emotion felt
For thee and, truly, only thee. Unsort’d
Heartbreak and bitterness so often welt
To the brim of the geyser’s tip distort’d.
Ne’er thwart’d we be, be we thwart’d ne’er.
Again, let us like waterfalls
Repeat this bond to persevere,
Despite Time’s harsh pull to enthrall
Us with the panic of black fear.
How long I to reduce this world to ash
And be with none but thee eternal,
But truly can we ne’er be ‘gain awash
Of glory that we held so infernal,
As it fell from our grasp an open gash.
When dust is dust, naught shall reverse
The state from which ‘twas brought to death,
As what hath died is dead – a curse
Of life’s stale vow. Enjoy thy breath
And with this from me, disperse.
Maxine, Maxine! My one true love, mine heart!
If only pain could dim but a grass blade of length,
Then sans a doubt, I would be thine, ne’er ‘part
From thee again, my love. But yet, our strength
Renders such want futile – like broken art.
Goodbye, my love
I shall always love thee –