I
"Love is not love,
Which alters when it alteration finds--"
II
Come twilight, I began to wearily ponder,
Shall I leave, or stay tire-mongered?
My feet restlessly raise my body higher,
Eyes expecting a mass of finely dressed squires,
Whom withhold none of my immediate desires.
Across the way, someone challenging my want to retire.
III
She flaunts eloquence through her saunter,
Sat from afar, I study her: a divine grace-flaunter. Not a single living soul to accompany,
Other than the saxophone's supple harmony, And the occasional soothing piano key.
IV
A dimly-lit room submerged in guests,
Though she alone is the cause of numerous rubbernecks. Her beauty elevated by "Twilight...And Beyond”,
As her lips part slightly to request a glass of Perginon.
V
An orange glow sways upon her face--
A product of a neighboring fireplace.
She offers her hands enclosed in pure white gloves,
In exchange for warmth from the inferno's indirect touch.
VI
She's heaven on earth, but it's a hell of a night, A bit of thrill, a bit of fright.
My feet instinctively guide my unfeeling mind;
I deem myself crazed--nothing like my kind.
VII
“Madam, I find myself entranced by an ecstasy, Surely whom must have slipped past me,
As I have been searching for that perfume, so sweet. Pity me, miss, I take it as you are she?”
VIII
Pink finds it’s rightful place on her supple cheeks-- A result of my precisely folded handkerchief,
And my slipping off her glove to show chivalry,
Allowing me to introduce myself through a kiss delivery.
IX
Could my eyes be deceiving me?
Upon her fourth finger, what is this I see?
A series of diamonds resting on a silver band, Causing me to drop her newlywed left hand.
“Dear me, madam, I hadn't known you were married!” “Oh, that's just extra weight I've carried,
I can slip it off and we can leave this secret buried?”
X
I tried to conclude how an item as pure as snow, Could mask the one thing I would never like to know. Like a pulled plug, affection drained out of me,
The moment that vile rolled off the tongue of she.
XI
Loyalty--a relationship fundamental:
Something she so obviously lacked in her mantle. Never would I wed without the knack to be loyal,
I told her so, leaving her in embarrassing turmoil.
XII
"Love is not love,
Which alters when it alteration finds--"
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