The Clement

The clement was a plagiarist. She poisoned wine with others bliss.
You preferred her fertile ships.
O the embers burn on in the night. The ashes billow up to the sky.
The Love to soak you wounds is folly.
I thought the fight quite extraordinary. For you to have eloquently come to me to say,
"The dream falls on its knees before the gowns of such tease."

Because no one bares a resemblance to the night.

And even your romance for the dark life with concede defeat as drunkeness recedes with sleep.
And the mention of a bird or what I know you thought you
heard is what's called the reaping of the morning love.

But I call pretence on that woman's architect.
And she'll call mention on all she suspects.