Bleh with Barry

Not

A            rosy

sunset

Warm

Explosive

Bright

Beauty

Winking against

The immortal sun and the declining moon.

You are a king of the ages, and I know that

And knew that long

Before    my   virtue

Was       tested      in

Regards     to     You

I would be punished

For my   love   of you.

Now, my immortal king, I writhe in agony because I do not

Know when I will encounter you again. Is my      heart    like

A stone that you will rip your trophy from

And then leave me to grow vines of atrophy,

Callousness,  shame,   and  reviling? Are you

Simply going to toss me aside when I’m needed

No more? Should I even be thinking these thoughts

About your noble, perfect self? Maybe the water is starting to rot my

Brain, and I will become senile and old while you will never wilt, never

Be anything but Arthur, the bearer of the only sword I shall ever touch, caress, and enfold.