She to his hand did fly like a glove
as together they made out unknowing
the path. Moving on ever flowing
cast about the battlefield of love,
huddled beneath, a coldness growing
of some ill intentioned idleness
driven by lust to give final twist.
A venomous nature now showing
now duly marked. Unable to miss
in the glory of egoic gain,
she refuses defeat, he the pain.
That ignorance did blossom to this
These memories washed away in rain,
moving on now but no one’s the same.
—