Squandered years whisper for release
from bitter sweet moments and the lonely now.
A kiss of sorrows gone too long unheeded
planted like a mercy killing upon that brow.
Memory passes coquettish, and I heed them
Skin passes unblemished, and I leave them
Her lips sparkle reddish, and I need them...
But lips must await the fulfilment of my vow.
As memory must abate to lips that disallow
their pain to share her bed;
their whispers in her head;
Lips that bring an end to sweet regrets
and when she wakes, this lonely Capulet
will find from her mind my lonely eyes
from memory are fleeting;
                                   fleeing;
                                            fled.

Lethe, planted gently on her brow,
from rain-soaked lips soft like regret.
Hidden like my eyes are hidden now,
Better to have loved and lost?
Better still, perhaps, to forget.