The likelihood of noticing your pain
has led me to a certain disdain
that there is not enough in my reach
makes it go easy nor my love can teach.

These affections leave a grainy picture framed
solely for the purpose of that memory remained.
Settling its course of a wayward continuity
while I steered and veered with stifled ingenuity.

I grinned that I may have been far exceedingly helpless
thus my loneliness cheered back at me relentless.
Self-deprecation is ecstatic and fearful at worst;
to love and lost the beauty, I propose is something of prose.