E vergreen star, why must you scorn my sweet concern?
Dead is my heart, frozen in the winter of your scoffing turn.
I ndigo angel on your balcony in the castle in the sky
T ry to fathom the deep moonbeams shooting from my heart.
H eliotrope rose that has crumbled, in one scorching cry,
L ike the pillars of the temples in the apocalypse of dawn,
I can not see your pupils, consumed in the flames
E arly on, when you were young, in the springtime of the lawn
S alty weeds had not yet grown o'er the cripples and the lames.
I nstead of dancing I turned to grieving
N one of that worked so I settled on leaving.
R eading the haphazard notes you slipped to me
E ntreating my mind under our tree
"Do not forget me, my dear, it is meant to be."
-Pamplemousse
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