If you are not mine
Then do not be his
Or I shall tear asunder
That chain which binds you.
He who speaks
In forked tongue
Honeyed entrapment
Foul and black —
If only I could have
Awakened you
To truth.
Alas, in lieu
Of an impotent kiss
There is only:
Bloodshed
RED GLADIOLA 
Reminds me of poems from another time. Very impressive.
I find that old poems have a great sense of grandeur. Thanks!