Why a puzzle?

In my poetry of her absence, I’m sending messages, around my centre, a puzzle, a lady, an enigma, my domme morrigan, attempting to form a picture, but in a state of disorientation, well, would seem, that I ready myself, and go to battle in my love for her I love more than any other, in quest of love

In my dreams at night, dreaming raelene is obsessed, in my poetry she takes on her goddess,  that’s how obsessed from first sight, I found myself in a web, a web I want handcuffed around me, and the world became jealous that you found me, pieced me together that night

I’m not so smart as you, why are you a puzzle, and not holding my head? What piece would complete your portrait, viz you here looking into my eyes, so I can myself forget? And paint that portrait, one, or is it because nothing that’s ever said or done, can change our true love?

Are you not just a puzzle because you’re beautiful beyond my dreams? That I think I’ve made a picture and you shift and change, and become better than anything I, attempt, goddess?

The portrait then is endless, looking thru love as two mirrors when my frame, wherein set, you would come,  you would marry me, and I’d forget about me, we’d be wed, it’s a puzzle why we’re not yet

You’d not listen to anyone negative, I’d write a tome about your not listening to anyone, cause that would become an enigma, a mystery to write, endlessly of, a portrait of love, your only reference, and why we two came to be, or how, as if we were on an island of our own, washed up from the sea: we lived together, forever, in my poetry