I thought that I would write a poem for you.
I thought I might include different tools;
Ones to show that I'm not through
The times we shared as fools.
I thought I might mention Lust versus Love
Or a gambit of mistaken deeds.
I thought I might mention your cavernous eyes
From which no man might escape your needs.
I thought the past might roll itself around in my dome
Until it appeared to be a bullet's caste.
I thought my dreams, once, came true
In a pityful-looking ship's mast.
As this poem comes together, it slowly falls apart.
I'm now at the enchantress' gate, hailing the boatman,
Hailing the storm's end to bring delectable closure.
I need not know delectable closure.
The truth is that obsession drives a man into those cavernous eyes
And I don't care if the poem's scheme no long has rhyme or meaning to the audience.
I've transformed myself from writer to the wits of a new man.
The witch has forgotten me and I've passed the ire of Jealousy.
And I'm in love (God, yes, Love) with walking away just fine.