Once in the caves of time,
I wrote a tear strewn letter,
To a beau of yesteryear,
To reveal the garden of my heart,
My intentions were that of scented flowers,
Though the reception was likely stainless steel,

To put pen to paper was an ordeal,
My quill was a frigate in a storm,
A typhoon falling upon the parchment,
This water would not propagate a flowerbed,
The etchings persisted through my rain,
Though every second word was tainted by aqua,

When the torture was finished,
When the roses were cast atop the casket,
I signed with a trembling flourish,
A terminal gift,
Fastened to it as a final kiss,
A peony held with a paperclip.


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