Form: Spenserian Stanza
In summer's lunar light - his words I weep?
To cast aside his love for beauty's touch,
as Siren whores with devilled fingers creep,
inside vacated heart of nothing much.
A scant desire that leads to bitter pain,
his twisted thoughts - my flights of ecstasy,
my first and last , my sun and winter's rain,
his words release my mind to liberty,
yet where his soul remains - his words have no mercy..