Facade Of Remorse

oh to cautiously revisit what once was the secure blessing of divine;

a pure fragment of feminine grace,

held honourable in powerful esteem and beauty,

disparate from the disheartened endeavour,

smothered in the stench of week-old bonedry leftovers,

deficient in nurture, and vulnerable to the mere facade of remorse

in denunciation of the broad daylight, where the shade reeks of absence,

will the trembling guilt seek shelter in the undergrowth of our own sin?