A/N: Bad weather does things to people. XD That's all the excuse I can give for this. That and it was a friend's birthday, and she asked me for something. (sweatdrop) The Alfred Dorn sonnet form is used here. Wheee.
Veritas
While, wanting oil, our lanterns gutter faint,
We two sit, empty, in an empty hall.
The rain and heartbeat drum their single rhyme.
These nights, I play the sinner, he the saint
And watching each drop's suicidal fall,
We ward the night away with smoke and wine.
A smile, a breath, and no one will confess
That greater men have lost their lives for less.
Though I am blessed not with the sweet restraint
That cradles him when lightning rends the skies,
A broken scene anew we try to paint.
Uncovering old scars with heavy sighs,
Some nights he plays the sinner, I the saint.
I pour his glass; he thanks me with his eyes.
