The perfect girl, walking right through the door,

Are his wits here or simply thrown, continually upon the floor?

Growing weary, his thoughts lying awake at night,

Pondering, pondering what could be done right.

Gazing, at her luscious smile; both welcomes and terrifies all the while,

So slowly he lets go; a sliver of weakness, an ounce of trust,

But how can it be so…is this nothing more than mental lust?

Rust, rust, rusting and wandering slowly, frozen in time with usual style.

Boy that has gone astray your cursed reverie will blow away;

The elegant tempest, wise and true diffused to a trickle for her dethroning,

It is here his heart did not fret, instead, his mind focused upon the ley;

Sewing the heart upon his sleeve and shutting his eyes he began the atoning.

All was fine from shredding his heart, for introspection is the cure,

Though, staring back for so long, he meditates and recalls the allure.