Coitus de Toi

Crisp bed sheets forming rivulets,
Over and under hills of glowing skin,
Bodies masked in transgression,
Only by the mouth of judgement,
Yet they have no passion,
Only tasting a gratuitous joy,
Why must love be so ignorant,
And yet so jocund,
Preposterous and still so understood,
Unexplainable, unobtainable through common methods,
Challenged by any who are inferior to benevolence,
Granted by those without remorse or subtle tendencies.

Can we forgive and forget,
Without choosing to see,
Have I found something inside,
That I have somehow lost in thee,
Is he envious of compassion,
Relevant to few,
Embodied in glistening chalets,
Incensing to the scantily clad,
Yet I have only begun mad,
And ended with despair,
And in between found exultation,
For a commencement I can not bear.

Have I thought before speaking,
Yelled without devotion,
Wasted my heat,
For something I never had,
Compared to tubers lying underground,
Broadened in mind,
Yet diminished in soul,
My irrevocable glory,
Virtual heart replaced by coal,
Lauds in my enlightenment,
But I will do it all over again,
Such a mortal unction quickens decision.