ardor abased

I envisage a day that’s less morose
do worlds exist less bellicose?
my planet is rife
with uncouth love
my heart hears strife
from soothsayer above
I repine for hearts
that were never mine
I bereave this art
of hands divine
I’m lamenting ardor
I won’t receive
I’ll have no armor,
nor reprieve
amorous words, avoid my face
through rash actions I’m abashed, abased
my zealous adulation
crafts a cancellous shield,
my jealous perturbation
dissolving any ward I wield
vivific vixens, invariably,
fall for loutish love
I’m transfixed, incomparably
my heart fell from her shove
I pine for nights less maleficent
I yearn for my heart’s renascence
volcanic honey, her words were
tasting sweet before they burn
sweep what’s left into my urn
since love and I have adjourned

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