Her: Part II

aesthetic truth, she was
mathematical proof.
semiotic woman, she was.
aurally, optically and olfactorily.... seemingly aloof,
she was a gravitational force,
creating galaxies of adoration, she was
a pause in space-time
and a muse for my rhyme.
although speechless at the time.
she was all of these and nothing simultaneously.

what was it?
my circumspection precluding the erection
which would impel me to act?
or my circumcision, spiritual dissonance,
confirming my pact?
or was it my expectant disappointment,
my crystal 8-ball making me reticent?
could i not see the future?
no house, no little ones?
i could start it,
but could i get the middle done?
was it my lack of confidence,
fear of rejection?
or my common sense,
walls built for protection?
and for what defense?
regret, pain
unavoidable truths of life.
success, ecstasy,
unattainable, within this plight.

so i guess i'll file her under;
unprepared for opportunities (reserved hope)
filling a landfill of lost dreams (fires stoked)
burned into clouds
that rain down melancholy,
adding not to Love's growth.
washing out vibrant colors of reds and purples,
leaving muted pastel emotions.

so what's left of this life?
some settled-for, quasi reality
of easy victories,
and absurd truths,
hastily erected to scaffold the temple of pain and fear
adjacent to Love's cemetery?
which we regularly visit,
adorning the sepulchre with our tears.