I tried to find the lock of hair,
That helped you learn to love me.
For days and night I've seemed to stare,
But lock I’d never see.

“Why” You ask in full invest.
“Are you so stuck on retreating?”
For lovers feed the newest test,
To inform, but be misleading.

To be honest love, I can confess.
Retreat is never what I expect.
My love is pure, I do regress,
But constant alone, the end, direct.

My god I found the lock I need,
But alas, refused to speak to me.
To never perform my dying deed,
In hopes with me, she’d always be.