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