A certain sort of romance
Has taken deep ensnaring roots,
To the basis of my binding
And has obfuscated certain truths
A curtain for the frame
Which highlights lover's game,
A back and forth a'plenty
In an unsure sort of phase
Which strikes the lonely heart
With a certain sort of sorrow,
For the question had remained:
Who's love would so be borrowed
A quintessential identity
Would be troubled in the rain,
To pervade her sweet happiness
Through the veins of his pain
A walk down the street
In the throes of winter day,
Where course could never matter
So long as the river stayed
Forged from forgotten tears
Of lingering, not-so lost longing,
Freezing underfoot a path
Slippery enough to pardon
Any fall or misdeed
Made without will,
Watering the seed
Will sprout it stronger still
A tree with roots so deep
Their vigor entreats ensnaring,
To sew together a binding
Which could seal an eternal pairing
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