A slow, sweet death embraces the heart
Cursed from the start, it would seem;
So fall the arrows.
Doomed, then to follow until the end
With nothing but limitless affection.
Clouds cover rose-tinted skies,
The world still turning
Stars still shining -
But none shine as bright
As when your stars grace our night
Fervent desire silently burning
All for imperfect perfection.
Crowds parting for a god
Cries of worship as prayers are answered -
To treat you as such is a sin.
But such an imperfect perfection
Strips the heart of all its direction.
So begins the demise.
Youth and charm,
Humour and life
All serve to disarm
Those who succumb to your ways.
Leaving sorrow and grief in love's wake
When your presence is missed for some days.
But following grief, with your sweet return
Comes the lustful thirst of a heart
Fit to burst with adoration
At the sight of that wondrous face,
The sonorous tones of that honeyed voice
Laced with velvet, caressing our skin in dreams
Which leave our hearts to burn.
Burn for imperfect perfection.
The familiar melancholy notion
That such great love to you we cannot give,
Sets to break our hearts in time
So until reality halts our desire,
Both sense and rationality resign.
By now, we know it all too well,
To love is our design.
Through love's mortal immortality
Our lives we measure, and tell
Those we know for constant days
Of how devoutly we sing the praise
Of your imperfect perfection.
