The Trappings of Romance

He’d clamped his lips together both to halt

His making shouts—and calling out that name.

He knew that theirs had been a wild assault

Against his nature.  It had been his shame.

The yellow hair that clung about the head

Was stylish in the fashion of the day:

Great care was mustered, but it left love dead;

Well, worse. . . more comatose, more like a play

Without protagonist or point.  Sweet pink

Of  blondish skin should probably have worked,

Particularly with that hair.  A kink

Was in it, though.  This combo merely irked.

..The thrills shoved in he gave with lunging might

….But there was something missing, like a slight.