Her coquettish ways diffused
intuition;entered mademoiselle.
At the ingress threshold,there's a dupe's face
to gar the likes of that belle.
The comely naiad whose ego remained soused
with the gore
of any man willing to impinge
his own heart with her feckless words that cascade
from her tongue
like baneful water from the fringe
of a desolate rivulet of vanity
that(after plummeting
to anew water of the humble heart)
taints the flow with her biting
farrago of flagitious wants
and nonchalant.Doldrums of heart:ascription
by ego,vanquished life that was
vibrant amidst the heart's tepid run.
Audacious was I to let her
swim the abyss of my naive heart;
however,in youth of man,
such experience is of the lover's lark.

The benison of talent was bequeathed
to her kith
in forms of chansons to which she did sing;
crooning not of musical melodies,
rather of braggadocio chaunt to
omnes ears' wings
that would choose to be aloft upon
her air of conceit,dauntless of
reality's acts of alighting upon
truth that familial love
towards her congener troupe
never existed,
even from innate period when envy
(and possible rancor of such)
is absent,
except within her anomalous mind that leads
itself from the accident of birth to
its rendition
for the kismet of her death that no one
shall weep for,be it in despondent rain
from tempestuous cumuli,or effulgent sun.
Her trophies upon the wall will
quench her ego until they become
putrid from time;from fugue of
performances that granted her the words,she won!