Maybe, But Perchance, Perhaps

I saw the moon in thine eyes, the stars shone around it too,
The sky was a deep dark blue, as intense as you,

Yet its intensity was hardly as consuming as the enigma of your continued ability to linger,
Your finger on the trigger was as foreboding as the diminuendo of that fat lady singer,
Yet still that digit trembled as, if coupled with 9 others, it had set off the ringer.

No jolt could shock me into accepting that this is bittersweet at best; no colt-like pace could race my heart into arrest,
I shall remain the dolt without hope so infinitely cheerful, for none shall take away the feeling your smile gave me — “Oh how blessed”,
Let me shackle myself to your feet (if only for a moment) that you may grow fond of these chains – see them for their caress,
Take this hand I offer in earnest, bruised as it may be, it shall shine any of your glass slippers to gleam brightest.

Shall I interest you in some Better Banter?
I know what I have had on offer may have gone sour so many years after,
Maybe some Soul Parable would engage you enough to keep you here, beyond the laughter,
Do I need Teeth Whitener? Perhaps I repulse you with my failure to blind when my lips part; could it be that they too are a factor?
Would you be more inclined to take a Pamper Hamper?

Tell me oh sweetest of characters,
Shall I stay outside and be your Snow Man this winter?
Can I be your Burning Man in the summer?
May I play Leaf Collector in autumn, when you need my rake to keep the ground unaltered?
I shall do anything to see you sing in the spring, oh what a time for your true colours to be shared.

As I have loved thee, I see no point in ending this without decreeing openly,
That by the window atop the tallest steeple I shall stand and look out for you daily — in my hours off duty,

I shall stay keen even as the darkness steals my sight and the night reignites my despondence, for I see you coming to me when I least expect the courtesy,

Maybe you shall call on me if only to bid me adieu, certainly I shall understand Her Grace leaving a soul as wretched as mine to the world’s mercy,

But perchance you shall come to me with a different message, well-meaning and forthcoming, possibly claiming you love me,

Perhaps I shall see you on the day you choose to fill this hole so deep in my soul, walking across the fields from your castle to my outpost,

And should it so be, then there is a chance that I shall not have withered away into my own heart’s abyss,

That the voices within shall have settled, albeit disinclined, for a peaceful acceptance of reality,

Maybe, but perchance, perhaps,
I shall be yours in perpetuity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.

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