Virtue and Vandalism

Listening to our adorations flirt
On obliviously parallel lines
And looking at you,
I see an eloquent speech,
So alienated from my
Graffiti slang, the cry of city hoodlums.

Each line break gives you away;
A renaissance man, with a rigid spine,
Who carefully captured wanderlust
And its purple aura.

My existence-an obscenity,
only halfway beautiful.
Darting eyes and restless legs;
A nighttime wanderer
With crude language and that alone.
But your writer spared no splendor,
Making you a reflection of classic beauty,
The simple courtesies,
The forgotten chivalry.
And I can't imagine a person
Any easier to love.

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