Brussel du amore

Word you speak makest me
Feel, a strong feeling which
May never be neutrilized by
the trifles of musing hussies.
Which stand before thee sane
Might I speak ye as lover.
Under both the skies of day and
the skies of night, from season
to season; might I speak ye as
Lover. Kind words and curses,
ensarcasm, and inlight of Tommorrow.
Might this here and now sing words
of our commitment to one another.

Than speak me reserved. Speak me
unavailable. Cite my love and speak
Me yours. Speak me in yours here as you do elsewhere. As we are the most important parts of our own significance. Might the curses of doomsayers, speak me as different, in our times of indifference, appreciate my presence to mend the gaps of dispare.