she who sees til the end

 The blood of youngs

first blush of love:

Beauty, bled and borne

from photographs

            now faded

                from heavens eye. 

            But oh, how once the angels wept

                to see the spell of

                  tumultuous

                    tragic

                    touching

              Lovers,

so under magic, "by the book"

that only the world turned for them. 

Now it stops to remember the 

flush and texture

of what once was,

but never again the prick.