I heal.
What was, it leaves me solace.
You scar.
What is, it leaves thee soulless.
For joy!
'Tis better: I hold my life.
For sorrow!
'Tis bitter: thy life you've holed.
This love
Leaches the resent, lightening my heart
That hate
Leeches the present, alighting thy heart
I act.
See! I'll sink this sordid ordeal.
You perform.
Seems we're in sync, this ordeal's sorted.