The night grows heavy silent, as
The wearing day is done;
At home amidst the emptiness
He can no more outrun
But she – she would have been the one
To comfort him, and give
A purpose to his meaningless
And feckless way to live
She saw the best in him, and he –
He was his best with her;
But left her for concupiscence
That sordid saboteur
Now she’s moved on without him, long
Ago that line was crossed;
She could have been the one, but
Selfishly
All that
Was lost
Oh, “concupiscence”! I haven’t heard or seen this word in so many years. Being raised and educated in Catholicism, I once knew it well. The breadth of your vocabulary and how you paint the words on the canvas sometimes stuns me.
Well, thank you. I love the rhythm of certain words, and that word is one of them.
Normally, the odd parts of my vocabulary come either 18th or 19th century English literature; however, I honestly don’t remember where ‘concupisence’ comes from.