Maria, I Cannot Stop Your Memory From Draining From My Soul
My beautiful, distant, silent Maria
farewell, sweet soul of my wounded heart
you were the painting, living so true, silently making me crave an eternity with you
Sweet Maria, no name could mean as much, and a soul could reach and touch
my begrudgingly-existence hands to a silk not known by crusted brow
Oh how the blood drips, drips, one strand
at a time; your a prisoner, Maria of a time of then and one to begin
walking as a preying widow on a wounded fly, I bend and bow, and cannot cry.
One glimmer of your starlit smile, Maria, maiden of forgotten Spain
Author of my love sonnet, creator of my lifeless eyes
Your scent so soft and skin far so perfect
why you blinded me with a sparkle of your whisper
and burned my horizons with one childish whimper.
Now, Maria, oh, nameless woman who I vow, more then and more now
Bowed to your lovely crest, life be given from your seasonal breast
Our days, laughs, and a year together gone
In sandy summer when our Monarch/s are alone
We dined on unicorn's turf and shaped ourselves in a tiny troll's earth
I saw it once in your weakened laugh, a laugh that called me a fool
And a fool I found an honor at your feet.
The horizon an evil orange and wingless angels
Fly the coasts making sure sanity was still intact
Oh, dragons so lie to a romantic in fire, leaping to seize her who was never there
I laugh and roll in sand so hot, memories leave my blood, I have, and now have not.
Oh fool I start to speak, elder sages wink and a half and I begin to think
Maria, no test in life is deity fair
I, the fool, dreamed of you, one life beyond toil and care
Sunrise, sunsets, are ash as I watch one last Maria memory pass.
Why, a fool on a sand dune, singing, struggling, and moaning 'til noon
Maria, see? It's your fool, the match to death, now see?
She swiftly, slowly walks and to no one mimics a talk
The fool lays face-down in a rancid ditch reeking of rising death of serpent and witch
Maria, queen of princesses adore, woman created out of sync, or maybe God's wink?
Such foolish, unbound thoughts of loving Maria, at least, my God, I did dare to think.
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