short friendship poem

in an old chamber softly lit
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
a pen of steel
that year
rose and amber was the sunset on the river
musing, between the sunset and the dark
when i returned at sunset
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
the air is like a butterfly
you say you love me
with her hair flaying wildly
i am dying
did you ever hear of