Inexplicable A Rendezvous With Me Fatigue...

"Ah! what blissful a sight do I beseech for - not splendid a splendour my dear but, an hour or, two bereft of me demise;

Art thou not aware of the ineluctable latter am I so oft compelled with the coerced sensation of;

Ah! how familiar is it to me now.

Do thee not conceive the same in thine core for can thou not summon explicable a comprehension for thyself, and must it be mere a point, One bereft of futility, that stands for thine utterance, is it not me dear?

Oh! pardon me if chisel do I thou river bearing seemingly infuriating a stream and merely single a stream of thy senses now,

For must it be so so gory and inflicted with inevitable an affliction...

Art thou entreated to be kept from the ugly clasps of untoward an apprehension, must it not be so invited!

Lethal a hand will it cosset thou with thee know!

Oh! how clever a spectacle that beckons me hatred, and do I despise the same indeed.

Will it soon be imperial an affliction, the wounds will briskly become invisible,

Seconds of probably perpetual s day help fly the retrospection into the grasps of vain,

And so will thou trudge past thy misery until the same appears to be unheard of! ",

Was me utterance in the black of night, accompanied was I by the brine of me eyes;

Amaze do they now for has the fatigue still seemingly been so certain a stranger to them that art they assessed with pristine an act of executing the display of the same. 

"Adorable a soul art thee, and so captivating a reticence do I behold in thine eyes that implore do I to thou to speak!

Speak me love, utter thy heart to me for have me hands been aloof this while, for have they been so often and art they as well,

Bereft of thine whispers' splashes... ", approached thou ruby and lingual a cacophony with little kisses of innocence.