Never heard the word,
though if there is anything here to learn
it’s that once the fire’s all but burned
the cold will yet again return.
Ache, more than one might take
once loving eyes now cast away in pain,
grains of sighs where once they shone with pride, lost finding love in their bright alight.
Woe, you really ought to go,
wrought this, so why still do you dote
heart, still torn apart with hope
you dashed on rocks and hung with rope?
Dope did run his course,
caught now in remorse, therein lie the source;
lost and languid in anguish you forced,
left here alone to question your worth.
Is it her mirth that makes you mad,
should not her loving after make you glad,
cherish what was had and call it that,
why left feeling like a hollow, soulless cad?
Just a fad, there is joy that shall be found,
bury sorrow in the ground, she was not what made you proud,
cast the clouds away and frown no more too loud,
take off your bones from mourner’s shroud.
If I were endowed with a morsel of valor,
I would keep this poem in my parlor, unwrit,
unspoken but known without this weaker sigh,
but she’ll no longer look me in the eyes.