She

She is sweetness untasted,
by the likes of the deserving
though for some,
love is merely a mistake of judgement
until something better comes along
to subtly replace a misplaced heart.

She is forgiveness unfelt,
a bleeding heart of amore
so they drink,
and play and fall,
until choice is lost,
yielding to fatal attraction.

She is kindness unseen,
not wounded love could defeat
from the bounty of the wasted
we count,
moments until she turns sour
but she never does.

She is sanguine addiction,
of words that melt stone
with a fire that breathes
from her will,
burning in virtue
that makes me sing.