Beauty held sacred is only ashes
when the flames of passion burn low.
Better beauty be beheld from afar,
unadulterated and unaltered
simply presented upon an altar.
But those blessed with beauty beyond
are but mere mortals masquerading
as gods in whose image we all are
and yet still we cannot touch the truth
for fear of tarnishing it with deceit.
So we receive the receipt of regret
for moments not spent, sadly shelved.
I crave your beauty, your mask
but I am too hard and too strong
I will shatter your creation, I will
break your mask and expose you.
Can your heart handle the hurt
and can you sing in the sunlight
when all you’ve known is rain?
Already you reign in my heart, but
still you are wet behind the ears.
Years remain between us, years.
Sadness lingers in the passing silence,
as sweet wedding bells toll empty
but the fear of denial died in death
so let us dine, deny death and live.
Let us love, even if beauty broken be
let it be, for so it goes i suppose.
Let beauty rest in barren grave
and let us blaze in blissful ugliness,
dance the titillating tango of time
and forgetting briefly that reality exists.
Let us spent this midnight in Paris.