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Pain, low, moving, sliding, pain, my heart, how he falls from grace, quickly being engulfed by the lesser organ that is my stomach, making a pit inside of me. Pulling at the arteries and veins that hold it in position, tearing at my chest with a small force so awfully wonderful, I almost want to cry. It was you, your visage that did stop its beating, its hovering, its complete way of life. Oh that you have given it yew and hemlock infused, and introduced it into my mouth with gasps of words, coagulating blood and decreasing breath and sight in one sitting. What a foul sick I feel now, sitting there, just sitting, hoping to have blood flow again, catching up with the lost beats it has forsaken.
There we sit my life a song and you a composer, of nothing but minor, diminished, and chords augmented do you write. It's awkward, and dark, and sometimes a bit revealing. But still those eyes that seem to pierce, those hands that would I could coerce. I miss my life that was my own, so sodden and solemn, that once did not know the warmth of another vision, save of friends close and never in derision. Aye, but you I would let you deride me all the time, let you scorn me so, so long as I could have you to nurse me back from woe. You let me rhyme, and speak in time, and watch you secretly, as if it were a crime. I miss you even now, ironic that you'll never know.
To your face I would mine hide, for grief would strive to keep any kind of my sort from yours. Your beauty is too high for me, a lowly land mammal, to reach such a zenith. You seem more an angel than human sometimes; it isn't fair, as if Eros himself sent you to me as a pungent reminder of my humility. To remain so humbled, it isn't fair. I'll never love again if that the case my lost dear.
I've lost, there is nothing I can say to you that would persuade any one of your caliber. I will forget you soon, in my life I can't say I won't again swoon. It’s a natural law, but for now, I guess you were something to admire, like I willingly like to play a flower on the wall.
Standing on his feet a young man crosses the classroom he so much admires and replaces an empty seat with his own rump. Looking across the way at beauty's face," mark me." His voice weak and timid in lofty whispers he continues to speak, "I've lost you from true lover’s sight."