The Whispered Word II

Back into the amber yearning, all my soul within me curling,
soon again I felt a knotting somehwat lowered than before.
“Truly,” said I, “Truly that is something as thy widows’ sadness;
Let me be, then, what and who is me, and this mystery explore –
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; –
‘Tis my beat and nothing more!”

Broken glass of peanut butter, when, with many hurt and mutter,
thin hair kept a shapely maiden of the sanely gaze of yore;
not the beast impatience craved she; not a spoon stopped or saved she;
But, with cuisine of hoard or gravy, smirched above my amber core –
smirched upon a dust of malice just above my amber core –
smirched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this amity flirt beguiling my mad fancy into smiling,
Lie the safe and turn de-cordum- of the consonance it swore,
“Though thy best be worn and fading, thou,” I said, “art sure no craving.”
“Vastly thin and patient maiden squandering from the Nightly shore-
tell me what thy worldly name is on the Night’s insomnian shore!”
Quoth the maiden “Nevermore.”

Much withheld his ungainly growl to near his course so vainly,
Though this dancer quite appealing – little elegancy bore;
for she cannot help repeating that none of her core’s beating
ever in her chest’s myth bleeding flirt or love this amber core-
flirt or seized upon the colored lust is of this amber core,
with such name as “Nevermore.”

But the maiden, sitting lonely on the acid lust, spoke only
that one word, as if her soul in that one word she did outpour.
Nothing further then she covered – not together when she suffered-
Still shy, barely core and shuttered “Other friends have flown before-
on the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”
Then the flirt said “Nevermore.”

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