Of my highest conceits
She is there
In the sheets
And in parcels
Of parchment
My sorrowful weeps
Knowing we will
Forever
Beside ourselves
Sleep
Even if
What the distance’s
Dissonance
Keeps
In its keep
No, its stronghold,
It’s fortified bastion
The walls that we build
Unfulfilled
Without passion
To lack satisfaction
But practice content
Will most likely
Much sooner than late
Breed lament