A poet struggling with the world's condition,
Prostitution of talents and the bondage
With which the bulk of men have been deceived,
I am not, I think, one who would say
That the selling of the soul would give respite.
But I did say to myself, and not once,
That I would sell my soul for your love
If lie and surrender were needed.
I spoke this haste without thinking
That it was black blasphemy and perversion.
Your forgiveness to me for the thought
That you were one who would take a poor creature
Of a little weak base spirit
Who could be sold, even for the graces4
Of your beautiful face and proud spirit.
Therefore, I will say again now,
That I would sell my soul for your sake
Twice, once for your beauty
And again for that grace
That you would not take a sold and slavish spirit.
To whom I owe the leaping delight
That quickens my senses in our waking-time
And the rhythm that governs the repose of our sleeping-time,
the breathing in unison.
Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other
Who think the same thoughts without need of speech,
And babble the same speech without need of meaning...
No peevish winter wind shall chill
No sullen tropic sun shall wither
The roses in the rose-garden which is ours and ours only
But this dedication is for others to read:
These are private words addressed to you in public.
Clouds had settled in on the frigid day.
Their love was frozen, held in place.
His loving stares and her fair love
Could not conquer their stubborness.
No matter how hard she tried she was ridiculed.
All the signs he had shown with great care
Were not perceived by other than her.
He had loved her for quite some time,
And she well knew what he wanted.
But how was she to speak up?
How was he to get past his reputation to love her for real?
She tried so hard to get past the stares
Past the rumors and humored lies
And he saw so well past and tried hard as well.
Like Romeo and Juliet they had moments.
Silent and unknown moments where their eyes met,
Hearts raced, and it was like love at first sight.
But alas, it just could not come through.
Like Jack and Sally he could not see
All she had done, all she sacrificed for him.
Suffering and tattered her heart was when he would not look astray his work
To catch a glimpse of the girl behind him,
Darkness covered in her golden hair.
Their personalities mixed and mingled,
His status as a social king and she as a Fallen Angel
Went so well with everything.
And who was this girl you may ask? The Night of his Day?
None other than me, who stands before you now.
Cloaked in darkness and despair, waiting for the chance to show her love.
Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. Uncertain she was, standing in the shadows.
Whether or not they do fall deep in love, well now, it's just not that fair to know.
Patient and innocent they shall wait; nothing else to do but wait.