Alas Dear Madam

Alas, dear Madam, have I thee wronged
by gesture, savage word, or deed,
thus giving thee cause for sorrow,
importuning your heart to bleed?

Have I, dear Madam, given thee
injury so rank and so low
as to merit your cool design
to suffer me the status quo?

Dear Madam, have I deceived thee
and showered thee with silken lies,
or primed thee with honeyed words
that cloak dark purpose in disguise?

Nay, dear Madam, no wrong to thee
did I meanly perpetrate.
no grievous sin did I commit,
nor cold insult dedicate.

My grossest error, dear Madam,
was to unknowingly explore
the pride sleeping in your *****
and its delicacy ignore.

So, dear Madam, please forgive me
for the numb bruises I thee gave
to that one part of a woman
which no man should ever brave.

mages

Searing cold vibrations
ringing in the well;
shifting sands in the moonlight
obscuring the only trail.

A song sinking, shattered
upon a dissonant reef;
pregnant clouds low flying
over the tidal grief.

Voices in crescendo
of sharply focused gall;
severed strands fraying
in the fabric of the soul.

Frail wings in the darkness
fleeing a ruptured storm;
footprints in the desert,
leagues away from home.

Pale cheeks in black boxes
hewed from fated pine;
black lace and white candles
sputtering in the rain.

Reckless thirst rippling
placid pools of bliss;
a rusty mirror reflecting
faint imprint of a kiss.

Fragrant guile oozing
down a fickle brow;
faithless eyes drowning
in the melting of the snow.

Wormy bark peeling on
bent sapling in the glen;
a crown of weighty branches
bowing to the wind.

Such are the graying images
painful in the grasp;
kaleidoscopic fragments
of life's fragile glass,

embedded in the depths
of memory's own thick balm
congealing in the ashes
of a time long since gone.