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Mark 7d
If I have ever lived to feel pure love;
No footprint of that love did leave in me
Nor does familiar scents of Cupid's prove
Send conscience into stupor love's decree,
Tho' had my loveless days, turned loveless years;
Deformed in senses, time - when lore did feel;
By thunder 'bout the grail of lover's peers
To where the ardent and my mind congeal.
Ah! Born was I to love, and not of stones
The hearted kiln has turned myself to mold;
What only I surmise to be of bones
Now void of love and void of that of old.

As to the testimony of my core:
I've never loved and nor shall evermore.
Mark Jun 2
Take all my blood in need 'till i'm asleep
That I may linger where you live in me,
And tho' you hide there well and bide as deep
Again your fairest sight would I then be.
You first arrived as swift as you had left
And I took you to stay; as dawn to light
Yet from my skin and then my skin's bereft
To mourn a love that held my better sight.
Reunion of a kind, as that proposed,
Would have deceived the years that had you lost?
Denying time when time had you reposed,
And all I made dissolved and none accost.

No! Keep concealed my sprouted, golden years
As now I love you more as age appears.
Mark May 27
To whom would rush the wounds of love with love;
Let take a caution deep where your wound bleeds;
Perfuse the stream, the flow is flow's behove
To love is not 'in love' without its deeds.
The void will drain without another grief
Why two to bore when one is plentiful
And portioned love deceives and all to brief
So reason then to heal and heal there full.
But time has half a doctorate of pain
The tested friend is patience met with heart,
And he or she with both is lover's gain;
To love as freshest as the springtime start.

So tender yours beneath that lover's rain
Then out the colored bow! And love's again.
Mark May 20
If dreaming paths the way to where you are
Then why has none to you, so taken me?
If love ignites us, why are you then far?
That far, that my imaginings can't see.
Perhaps my silent dreamer cannot bear
To love again, the past that future's burn;
So why in sleep reveal what eyes do stare
And love that loved me so does take no turn.
Ah! Waking moments have within, you here
That need no dream, to dream is to: awake,
Let flowing breaths devote, and you endear,
Then I, your love do keep and you do make.

What state could better render you alive
Than what the mind can hold, and not deprive.
Mark Apr 28
O' turn the sun to where she now resides;
That here be dark, and there she's cast in full,
Then if the heart does see, the heart abides
Into the brightest dream of strongest pull.
Then in that golden glow, love has returned;
Brought forth on tips of rays, that shined before,
And has convinced that moment never spurned,
Has self deceived when dwelling deep in yore?
Yes! Each a light does bring a shadow 'neath;
When most revealing is when most in trance
And tho' ablaze the black becomes a sheath,
Till best the dark that were, than now the glance!

Love not the love that lost, but love to be
Avoiding then; the bitter sight I see.
Mark Apr 21
My sonnet to: my future love to be
Tho' now I know you not, I know you some
Enough that you have wit, to love for me,
Let words impart, before our love become.
Refrain from early use, of that called love
As night to day, is past onto that word,
Yes tho' no doubt, our love will form above
I'll be that darkness still, where pain does gird.
If gentle, as imaginings create,
This heart you love, be gifted - soft the touch;
Then through your tones, will 'love' then hide in wait
Until that love shall shine the day as much.

Then all is yours my distant, darling one
Till then I too will wait, where love is none.
Mark Apr 1
I mourn the dead too often in the sun
And stare the rays as tho' it were a death
Not mine, nor yours, but till my all feels none
And what I give in thought, is lost in breath.
That air does brush the pain, yet not improve
As in that breeze so travels ends to means
With whispers hounding of a timeless move
That ever in a time - now timeless scenes.
I dwell in dreams that were, tho' never won
And offer plainly a discourse to tell
That I, gave them no chance, not even one
To grow inside a mind that grows as well.

To that of mine, no claim bequeaths my will
Let I as dust just sit, on widow's sill.
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