Why then .   .  .shall mine,
Heart inner walls and galleries.
Be not draped about
In such lush crushed velvet drapes and tapestries?
In plush deep daydreamy hues
Scarlet,crimson, or sanguineous ,
Which ever term
you use.
As long as it depicts the color of my muse ....
Intricate and brash
Yet refined raw and delicate

Variegated elegantly with
varied shades,
Each new love I invite in
Having artistic differences ,
As they often do
prefer Carte Blanche
To make love look
How they feel it.
For peradventure,
If I keep decor from an old love,,
Its the same as making them to blame for past pain.......
If your looking to loose
Thats the game for you..
I used to play it that way
Now I play the blues.
Over paid my dues.
Soul still bruised
Still feel the noose
And the short leash
Id run to the end
And thrash like,a spastic
They have all trained in
Emotional war tactics
Any attempt to fight back are in vain.
Their urbane
Splash stains of ratsbane,
Purple me ......
Then leave......
All vanity .
Ampersand,
Lies imbue questionnaires,
And rosy bruises replace
All this superfluous covering where love used to sojourn so beautifully.
Now the walls are a pale glossy sorta yellow .
even though the crimson flow of slow blood flow through it  .
Scars of  unwant
Disallow a chance to stain them..
Oh Love will thou come back to me again.... .
I adore thee ,
I am empty.
A fresh canvas I offer thee.
Yours wantingly
........Me.