short haired raven

My short haired raven
of the night
Enchanting me on the
very first sight
Sigh after sigh after sigh
And I can't even dare to try
For what good has ever come
Ever, from things I have done

Ice creams were to be had
But where is it really going,
And as such,
The things that make me sad
Were talked of and I wondered
if I had again blundered
into the trap of the flow
when you just want to go
and go and go and go.

For it is true that one cannot
feel, it's true: not a lot
A pinch and a pull; here and there
You know: just enough
to show that I care.
One cannot, for gods' sake
feel that much, it's all mostly fake
Nay, not fake as such, that's a bit much
Just good manners and all,
they do a man make
and make no mistake.

So what is it this time, I ask
What do I do to get out of this pit
And finally pull out the mask
From a part not that much of a hit?
Where do I go, where do we go
What have we done to each other?

Desserts finally meltInto evening of unknown mold
It is dark and foggy, and cold
I offer my jacket, as i have been told
the crackling fire, the woody smoke
where does it go, what does it hold?

And thus the story ends
With no apologies or tales to mend
We are where we are, nowhere to go
So let us give the writer some rest
and take things slow
For stories will come and stories will go
But ne'er was a good story
forged to be [something that rhymes with go. Maybe hoe?]
And the curtains are closed, the lights come out
And we finally see what the fuss was all about