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.