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Here are a couple of excerpts from another one I started after I finished November. I worked on it off and on for years but never finished it.
from Part I
She began, as a stranger,
To tell me the lies
That give her a foothold
On men's empty hearts,
Where the pale, dusty sunset,
In guarded jealousy
Of the dryness of solitude,
Begrudges a gilt romantic dream.
from Part II
Raise your glasses high, my friends,
In fond remembrance
Of the wretched melancholy of
Love's last tearful embrace,
And drink, till neither a heavy sigh
Of heartsick longing remains
Nor imagination taunts thine heart
Will skilled renderings of her face.
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