Glazed Regret

It sometimes seems to me a glazed regret                
Is resting on my writing desk; release           
Of sensuality must now be met                
With a cool drawing in; erotic pleas              
Are lost for he is gone and I must trust        
The floods, that can't be blinked away with grace,    
Will one day fade away: I'll be robust            
And wait for someone else to use my face                
And dissipate my tears;  unsubtle turns      
In verses will excite the few who care;          
If streaked mascara  on sore cheeks just burns,   
Then I'll survive the flushes; and I'll dare      
To use my tear stained hand to pen my dreams;    
And trust that new adventures fix my seams.