You must learn, my dear, and that right soon That often maidens hurt the things they love And with aching bodies do we twist, As sea-girls (oh my dear they do exist), Do drown sailors beneath the moon. All of lovely things are only accidents, And if you've ever been hurt (a fault of mine), My perfection came in time with your kiss Was nothing short an agony to miss, It's passions like these relegated to mere incidents. Curse me if you feel you're in the need, But my, I tell you, dear, I knew well the touch of you And sometimes all I heard were lies, This, the too-soon shock of you which slowly dies, Locks me to the moon and you (and makes me bleed.) Sometimes we flash on things I've said And I know that I've killed all in my own And I feel that judgement knows me well-- Angels pull me to separate Heavens and each own Hell, She was right: I made you up inside my head. Oh! And as I would like open wide and show, The way forgiveness bleeds in streams From hearts that screams like Russians bound In Russian snow; Anastasia's killing sounds Like you, as I said, I don't love you, no. Copyright (c) by M.R. Haden 1998
Reason for writing:
This is an apology to those who fell in love with me. Incidentally, all of which I didn't love in return.
Birth sign: Not entered
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