She has a next

Love skipped this memory like a forgotten league

Lust waylay
me with its short course armory of lubidiny

I hit my white injection needle on six times three ladies

All came out for a play without shame of unaffectionate randy revelry

Love now parades my soul with drums of impending tragedy.

Tragedy of the heart lamenting without tears.

This soul is afraid of getting a fraction for its whole

A fraction of beans for a whole bean sack.

I gave my best for the least of her affection

I was crucified on her tree of inordinate selection

She asked for gold

Told her my dreams will yield treasures fearsomely bold

My hays she scorned

Asked if I could hawk corn

Tore my heart from the backside meat of its affectionate hollows; snapping the veins and arteries and gave it to lust to swallow.

My heart in bitter grief had its nest.

The pain of knowing she has a next.

My worries unearthed from the deepest layers of thick assumed rejection

 I withdrew the memories of fun in my head she drew

I lowered all graffitis of her lips ; hips , beads and fun skits.

In the template of my heart I printed her beauty as ashes

Blew wild and tormented kiss to her being.

I shiver as I kissed a score of bottles to her memory in demise.

Her frame yet has its verdant lashes on my brain.

I wheeled her memory far into endless distance with a disgust branded barrow.

Mnemonics of love in my heart for tales I keep.

In this being love skipped its heart for a sabbatical leave.

Never to return until the master wills.