Reclusive Hearts

If love’s to muse of classic rarities,
Then love’s a rose, a kiss, a timeless game,
That’s played till musing procures clarities
And eyes acquire girls that have no name . . .
If subtleties amuse reclusive hearts,
Then musings taint the truth and all it bears,
Reclusive hearts invade the eyes and smarts
Of lads who wait—to miss—the girl too rare.
Are subtle girls inclined to motivate
Reclusive hearts that ache a drowsy crush
Away from brimming, blissful eyes that wait
For love’s insipid wrongs where truths are flushed?
If so, then musing’s all a beauteous lie,
And subtlety’s a truth the muse denies.