Lost A Bit Too Long

The prolific poet decided to serenade his mistress. He bought her the prettiest dress, twelve long stemmed red roses, a bottle of the finest wine and his poems in praise of her. As he walked down to her house, his poetry book got lighter and lighter! Appalled, he stared at the words slinking away around the corner of the street. A few steps further and the roses wilted, their petals falling to the ground like a pool of blood. At last he asked the pretty dress what was happening when, to his absolute confusion, the wine stopped sparkling, "Oh, pretty dress! What have I done to deserve this? Have I failed to love with all my heart, have my words not encompassed my love-struck madness, is not the suffering of my sweet misery sufficient to warm the petals of these red roses? Oh, pray tell me what have I done that this misfortune descends upon me!"

The sequins on the pretty dress faded away. And he knew it was simply because his love was packaged into fine verse for too long. Reality disappeared while the depths of its disdain drenched him.