Apt, a poem (original)
I succumb for your chaste intentions,
I strive for your blissful objections,
Neither had I found the lead to resurrection,
Nor had I probed my gratification.
Extreme sadness loomed my splendid daze
For your absence inculcated unconcealed haze.
Gust of woes signaled my apt demise
That you shall repent and I'll entice.
Who's to blame for this prolonged agony?
Who's to ask for this sentimental secrecy?
I shall extend my dusky cloak of sensation
For you never gave a word for elucidation.
