Вино из одуванчиков

Long, sleepless night,
Hidden behind a thousand locks
Alone, face to face with his thoughts
That he struggles to fight;

The blank canvas- hollow reflection
Of his longing, craving soul,
Two finger snaps and he's already out of control,
Desperately seeking redemption;

Shaking hands, burning mind,
Doomed hopes mixed with ardent desire,
He lets his fears ignite the fire
Clinging to this feeling- so unholy, so divine;

There he stands, breathless, in awe,
Consumed by a love so powerful and raw,
Looking at his most delicate creation,
Fervently whispering:
Her. Her.
Her...

***
I've just finished watching "Wednesday" and, hopefully, Mr. Percy Haynes White aka Xavier Thorpe gave me some inspiration to write this little poem.