Louis, My Louis
A quiet, almost vagabond soul…
My Louis is not
Louis de Pointe du Loc: has no hope, his heart a black hole
My Louis is strong, depressed, yet smiles light his face
Illustrious white skin, black hair, mesmerizing green eyes
A tall body, large hands, a warm embrace
He wants a purpose, love, a life…he feebly tries
Livelihood at its best, my Louis, my friend: a disarming face
Longing for his porcelain doll; mourning for her still
Moved on, he's found a new angel, a burning candle in a dark room
Human nature
is all Louis knows, he dislikes death
An open mind, an open
spirit, an open heart…my Louis loves life
An anonymous person remains unnoticed, a shade in the shadows
Louis, my Louis, Claudia remains…ever waiting