Anguish between Lovers

Extract the soul, my love. Purge it of tragic tales; for I dare to
Cleanse the trauma, if only to love a scar; for pain has
Blemished the core, thus features wail in silence. Thus I
Aspire to furnish dreams, if only to forge a fortress, if only
To excavate the joints of anguish. Who can but forecast
Divinity, in all of its colors! I ask, for the vine is withering,
But the cycle is resurrection. Thus, flit, my love. Stream to the  
Tempo of rebirth. Imagine the banner of faith, for a miracle
Dwells within the euphony of prose, despite the fountain of
Anguish. Indeed, my love, there’s mercy within the seams, a
Spiritual eclipse, the portrait of dreams. Thus, our souls,
Printed with glory, the touch of joy. But our reality, a myriad
Of colors, stressing the spirit unto despair. Wherefore, our
Hopes, fraught with thorns; but the alchemy of love is magical.