• Two paths chance crossed and both locked eye,
    their roads became forged and intertwined.
    Love was chance; chance to deny.
    The rigid feeling was silken lined.

    Lovelessness given time to bloom,
    Flower fed with beauty red.
    Living man buried in a tomb,
    and yet blind to skeletal dead.

    With smiles of joy and happiness coated,
    slow to live, slow in rotting.
    Beating in her chest ever bloated,
    Filled with love constricting; besotting.

    Warm, then soft, cold, now rigid,
    understood finally the floral doom.
    With eyes that stung and spirit livid,
    Glistening viewed the dying moon.