Neo-Victorian Exercise
it is a morbid kind of love
so inconvenient
in apathy, i'd say
it's worse than a modern
play, i'd say.
you are too wicked for your age,
rather bitter for a man,
forgive my staying, if
you can, in this world of
grayness, my fan.
and thus I can ignore the smoke
and hope for better times
to come, when my chaste love
will be above all things
a foolish joke.
This poem was written by Eliza Simon on Mar 27, 2008.
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