Untitled

Like diamonds she was beautiful and hard-
What cares have she, that her poet is doomed;
Like some falling angel or some banished god,
Coffined underneath pathways she perfumed.
Found in some contemplative misery,
Black skies upon our anniversary.

Into pieces, you could scatter me
Like gods and devils you could toy with me
And your spiteful designs could damage me
See how you walk away and murder me