You have lost faith in me,
I can see it in your eyes,
Hear it in the distance of
Your troubled voice,
Feel it in the loss of heat
In your touch.

You have lost faith in us,
And wander blankly
Amidst the days
Going through the motions
With no purpose
No passion
No hope.

May ******* them,
But they tell the truth.
The knowing whispers
The "I told you so "
The "We warned you"
You hear from every side-
From those I loved because
They loved you.

They are right
And I am wrong.
I took your life by
Slow degrees-
Destroying your life
By my very presence.
Subjecting you to a life
Of neverending toil
To simply stay a step ahead.

Your brightness has
Dimmed and fades
More with each
Passing day.

You do not deserve this
And never have.
My selfishness has done this
I cannot bear the thought of losing you
But I cannot do this-
I cannot destroy what
I love more than life itself.

The darkness
The possibility of
life without you
Now visible
And very real

Speak Knight of this foul dishonor you bring,
Unto me, your liege and rightful master.
Of this even the lowly peasants sing.
Arthur a cuckhold, the clergy murmur.
Give me words Man! Why hast thou done this thing
To me, your friend , your king and protector-
Who sat you- my right hand- at Table Round,
And heard you declare yourself honor bound?

My Liege, I am overwrought with my shame.
The woman is more than woman to me.
I am enchanted by the very name
of Guinevere- Sire, pray heed my sad plea-
Of two hearts tortured by Love's burning flame
Of kindred souls intertwined, reason free.
I say My Liege, where doth the man exist
The fair Guinevere's ample charms resist?

Best, Sir, to watch thy words, hold thy tongue fast!
You speak of the Queen, my love, and my wife!
You flaunt the Holy Writ of God at last
And play fast and loose with Eternal Life!
To foul Gehenna your soul will be cast,
to experience neverending strife.
Truly my soul is exceeding bleak.
Guard, bring the Queen that we may hear her speak.

How now my heart, that thy lips quiver so?
And tears besot thy alabaster skin?
Speak now of that which Mordred, base and low
Whispered quick, awash in the stink of gin,
Of the randy Stag and his demure Doe,
Copulating as beasts in the fields akin.
Lady, gaze into my eyes, mark me well
Speak truly now , as your tale you tell.

My Liege, Husband mine! my heart is most frail.
My soul a wasteland of desolation.
Tis true!  I met Lancelot in the vale,
And frolicked we after the setting sun,
As lovers are wont to do without fail
Where the rosy bloom of youth hath begun.
Tis true! I swear to the Good God above,
The brave Lancelot hath stolen my love.

Tis true, all too true, what Mordred hath said.
My wife, my hope, and the joy of my heart
She who I loved above all else hath shred
My life to pieces, bit by bit,part by part.
My boon companion Lancelot now dead
to me as well , who thought himself so smart.
Harken to my words, send for the court scribe
Listen well, hear thy punishment described:

Queen Guinevere, fairest of all the land,
Whose smile doth the very stars outshine,
Who once freely gave me in troth her hand,
With smoldering eyes, and words of love fine-
Creature of God with more of fairyland
Than mere mortal in your very design,
Now Adulteress, high treason thou wouldst make?
Tomorrow at dawn shall ye burn at the stake!

Lancelot, your honor lies in the dust,
Once White Knight, formidable in combat arms,
Tainted by sin and depraved ruttish lust.
The victim of a woman's haughty charms,
Who bleats of love as all feeble lost must
When rude passion ordered reason disarms.
Once friend, now foe, see your base heart's desire,
Expire at dawn, her black soul cleansed by fire.