There was a dubious decker letter on my door.
It read: let me mend you my friend, meet me in the circus.
However, there was no show when I searched your light,
but instead, a site of such justified ripping of my joy.
The grass below said, run as fast as you can, boy!
Dear, did I run, my feet carried me to our buried
body of radiant obscurity, weeping with a fresh image
of an empty chair. My juvenile mind ever so damaged.
I reminisced the warmest of your souls, consoling me,
as I softly and calmly breathed upon your bear hip.
There was a dubious decker letter on my door,
I reminisced the warmest of your souls,
which, shame, left me behind, without a chance or glance.
I still went to your show, which, I believe, was worse.