You were too perfect to be true
The fairest flower
Has lightest hue
But to what gods
You owed your due
For being you

You were too beauteous I see
Such sweet perfection
Isn’t free
And what a waste
You laid to me
For being we

You were an artifice of design
Your poetry
SoΒ ill-defined
And such a cost
I felt, entwined
For being thine

(c) Helen valentine 2013, All Rights Reserved

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