Fright and Trite

The paramour felt a seething pain at high noon

that came from a night of the phantom moon

to give him a stab in the heart of compassion.

Nerves flailed and his face riddled confusion.

A stir in the mirror took a dark stance

that looked like an ardor in a trance

with a spasm of sweet romance;

It ended up in an involuntary twitchy dance.

When he found his mangled alter ego

to salvaged his figure astride the amigo;

he stares aghast at the self-loathe

coming from an unholy love lost in a gulf.

Her love caught between crossfires of doubt

and a mirky mind that is about to be blown-out

We heard a knell sound dimly in the blackout

It reverberate as it dissolved into the twilight.

Love rides the chill of fright and trite