Shit Poetry

Idyllic prayer

String vibrations fill the air,
I question this sensation, desperation; a flirtatious glance?
and yet you’re unaware.

A chance to dance,
drown me in fine art, the rhythm of your heart,
dewy-eyed trance of young romance.

Melody unwilling to rekindle,
excitement of surrender, this wonder, so ember,
scorching frostbite ripping us apart.

Who is the offender?
A daydream heading nowhere, a debonair affair under a nom de guerre,
a callow wish I whispered in December.

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