A Portrait of Scars

He’s undone, a pensive poet. His love—the texture of pain.
And fiery dreams induce panic. Whereby waves afflict the
Soul. An unphysical flame, depth the touch; and he falls ere
The temple, fraught with fears, for life, an unreality.
His love, a sad spirit. Her soul, shards of glass. But joy, the
Art of fancy, and pain, a furnace of prose. Thus the soul
Quakes, flushed with visions. And clouds speak a language
Of love: the mirror speaks a language of tears; wherefore

Inflection, a kindred soul. It’s akin to a fairytale, his longing
Love. She’s a burgundy moon, a velvet sun. She glows
Affliction, a gravid love. He dies a fluid prayer. Whereby
Alive, a tender reed. And rapture, the eyes of God, depth the
Soul. Thus a magnet scar, heart to spirit. And love, a cave
Of diamonds, a mystic storm.