Love, Abhor & Longing For: Love, Abhor & Longing For
by Arthur William Drahnaus
This is from Angel's POV, I do not own Angel, but I do own this poem. I would love feedback, please e-mail me.

There is a maiden I know that my devotion communicates more then the words I formulate.
To me she is the art of perfection, flawless, she can do no wickedness in my perception.
Her physique to me is comparable to an hourglass, the contour of her hips, and the shade of her cheeks is perfection.
Her long strands of radiant, picturesque hair is silky to the touch and engaging to the eye.
She is the maiden that I adore, the maiden that I want to seek the hand of, and the maiden I want to treasure everlastingly.


There is a maiden that I know that my sickness for communicates more then a deathly illness would.
She is the art of imperfection, full of arachnids; she does no justice to be treated with my eyes.
Her physique is ludicrous, a bovine has superior contour then her, her cheeks are so colorless that a phantasm could not be whiter.
Her strands of hair? Pah! A Broom has a more appealing set of hair then she. A thorny vine is preferred to handle then those wires.
This same maiden is the maiden I adore, seek the hand of, and treasure everlastingly.


There is a maiden I know that I love and that I hate.
She is not far from perfect but she is not flawless; she can commit evil in my eyes.
She is no goddess in the form that she has, but it is still one to look for.
Her hair is not wire, but it is not picturesque, it has a color that is pretty to look at and longs for a touch.
She is the maiden that I love, abhor, and long for her to know how I feel.


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