Merciel

My memory of her has survived
the annual tempests in which I purge
myself to squelch her image
from my mind, each feature
she possessed (without equal) still intact
(particularly her green eyes).
Although I now offer my heart to others,
my soul belongs unequivocally to her,
whether she’s noticed or not,
and should she appear at my door,
I’d throw everybody else I love into the abyss.
and present what I’ve reaped from them as an offering to her.