Orpheus

Love commence in the hour of morn,
My mourning comes with passions forgone.
As love was love till time permit,
And lay thee ashes - broken spirit.

Once love used to be an emotion,
Bottled as sweet numbing portion.
But now it is nowhere to be found,
except your voice that the speaker sounds.

My love now has two hands and legs,
My love now drinks from brim to dregs,
My love is now in a face that smiles,
My love I hoped would walk down the aisle
someday,
But that's a bit rude, don't you think?
To rob a lover of his feelings?
Replace it with an image,
And cause in his mind a scrimmage!

My love now heeds none of me,
It is free to the point where its not mine anymore.
Its your's. And I am left loveless
dwelling in the only image of love that is left in my mind.
It's yours.