When (It Matters Not)
It matters not how he loved her,
As if love were a sickness and I, the terminally ill.
It matters not from where he loved her:
From dawn’s first break when all of nature was still.
It matters not what he promised her.
My very soul to possess the fire in her eyes.
And it matters not who he was.
For when the purest heart stops beating, even truest love dies.
And of least consequence was the question of why.
In love, reason is not the prerogative of men.
And the sad truth is that all other matters pale
In light of the impenetrable question of when.
As if love were a sickness and I, the terminally ill.
It matters not from where he loved her:
From dawn’s first break when all of nature was still.
It matters not what he promised her.
My very soul to possess the fire in her eyes.
And it matters not who he was.
For when the purest heart stops beating, even truest love dies.
And of least consequence was the question of why.
In love, reason is not the prerogative of men.
And the sad truth is that all other matters pale
In light of the impenetrable question of when.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is another one of my "inception poems"...a poem within a poem. However, because I can't use any colour other than black, you can't tell. But the secondary poem read:Her still eyes impenetrable
He promised fire