None but strokes only...

'Tis long, oh dear, has it been time since beheld I thy face to the last - 

why, hath thee been lonely just as me?

'Tis from not the concrete of my acquaintance that speak I tonight, this cement not mine, nor this ambience am I still a guest to. Oh dear, is the night longer than would I have liked to have it, long enough is it to irk the loneliness in me - alas! am I lonely?    

Dreary is the night just as well now, know I not how will the morrow begin.

But I hath seen it - the sallow, the auburn, the tangerine before turns it quite cerise for the day, and slowly and slowly meld all the colors to become one.

Aha, thou see, these hues in azure, turquoise, cerulean and livid blue, all I name to ponder over, but anon am I blinded with black ticks of clock heard from the sky above - tick, tick, tick, and once more, twice demanded, and a third encore.

What do I see now my love, oh my love?

What this festoon of leaves in cursive curlicue - such verdure green they wear in the black of the night? How now! Oh my God! how now! Do I not see the stars shine;

What quondam query is my rotunda lammed by - alas! no mercy does it show!

A thwack, a blow, a punch from the left and a slap on my visage - how must the moon hate me!

This shine of light so visible atop my head, my hair is glossy merely when kisses the sheen every inch of my skin. Recall I the night of my serenade to the stars, and one when did words seem worth a taste on my tongue and tips of fingers which now slowly run.

So what beauty is it that compose I on? What my light, my wife and husband both tonight? 

A little colder does it get. Speak will I what ransacks me heart in my soul within walls of flesh and bones - must thou tell, do thee like it or not?

This zephyr - flowing past my face is not but a fake charm am I seeking some verity in. Why so light? Not a gale, no blizzard is it. The hurricane hits only the home you see.

 Why so quiet my love? Prefer I believing in thee; may thee not make me enquire thy presence. 

I tell and tell the truth, be off me chest now. 

Some sense even in solitude, I tell the truth again - I terribly miss thee oh my paving off the ledge! 

Melancholy my mind, sombre some sight around as art these meadowsweet meriting themselves - tall they climb like rising damp on this wall do I still forbear whose touch.

Why, must I dislike it foremost to see me lane leading to an abhorrence so ugly!

What this world! How does it run? Feminine the owner and feminine the authority - alas! care I so less now! 

Is the stance one of terror to me. Hath I afar from fear for long, not by choice must thou note. 

Whoosh and wheesh the wind blows, high in the air, it seems to be lost too. 

Oh! what agony will my mind churn, creamy vapour trail of nimbus and cumulus as smears on my brain, off-white and pale pink in shade.

Oh I am scared now. Hath I lost me senses enough to wish upon a knot - seek I to be married to the moon right away. 

And the vibe is perplexing you towards the end of the race,

In a lonely, stony location,

Because the missing piece is bonded in a certain place,

In a faraway, poison-free constellation, amidst stars sidereal.

Now rancid my breath, cold a zephyr passes - but ay, no touch on this skin I wear. But so much, oh so much in layers lie underneath - one, two, and three. 

Hah! slender fingers slender no more, so shall I abhor? Whom or what must I despise me dear? I want to love you. 

So will I count no more - the foregoing festoon my palliative panacea of salvation perhaps. 

See how holy is the moon now! 

Stealthily creeps a hand under my skin, its pace slow and steady. Alack! quietly rots now something inside under the sheen of the moonlight.