The art of true love,
when true love made to art?
Is that of the canvas the Mona Lisa adorns.
One day fully known, but now known in part,
The measure in which HE loves my mind
A tragedy maybe...a travesty without doubt.
The way that his essence enveloped my own.
'Til One day his spirit, wings of angels did sprout.
Throughout heaven and hell, my spirit did
I no longer give way to life's' requests or
Though love not requited, forever it stands.
Written by The Jazzipoetress
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