A Shell Along a Pond

Ado, ado, shallows thick with lewd,
A thousand pinpricks inside the mind,
Peripherals of psyche change so fast,
Nothing to hold onto, nothing to last,
Mere moments of lust fade away in rain,
I hear thunder, wash away the pain,
Water on water, rings on the pond,
A cloud is torn, but now she’s gone,
I wish the throne room I held so close,
Not the parapets, drawbridge, or outer post,
The core of what she had always been,
Not easily noticed, but deep within,
Between the lines we feel, not see,
Selfless, nothing to do with me,
I would have been saved this reckoning,
Licentious fool that I’ve become,
Choosing blindness and martyrdom,
This feeling of love, with no return,
Is best expressed while this concern,
May save her from what pride invokes,
Death’s judgment passed, and now provoked,
Driving, she phoned her dearest friends,
About my wicked, selfish demands,
And flipped her car seventeen times,
The throne room and all, a shattered life,
Nothing left but ambiguity,
Standing by a stone this way,
Droplets mask my veil of tears,
The patter of rain, facing my fears,
A thick droplet from a leaf of an oak,
Makes a deeper sound, and I distress,
Rings of that droplet surely must fade,
As fast as all the rest