Inamorata, 1616
I lie here thinking of you:-

You stood erect
like a maimed bird
perching forlornly on a dying branch.
Your pools of torment
pulled me into
their infinite depth,
I was drawn and drown.
This chemistry must fade
there is no place
to entwine our souls in reality
of quills and velvet
of paints and dreams.
You and I-
be content with merciless fate
in swirls of Jacobean night.

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