I confessed my love to her
In pretty words speaking softly, fondly
And she spake unto me:

You fool, do you not realize?
You bring forth tears to mine eyes
For thou hast not realized
What thou hast said or done.
Thy words are as an empty shell
Deserted by its host, never to be full again.
Thy colours are beautiful, thy words sweet,
Yea, sweet to the taste, but vile in the pit.
Thy heart—Thy heart is a heart of words.
Thou art empty.
Thou hast not found thy meaning.

I protested, indeed, trying desperately
To convince the beautiful creature
Of my love and adoration
But my heart, my heart of words
Knew all too well that she spake truth.
I needn’t press upon thy time any farther,
I told her. And I turned my back.
I turned my back from the light
And simply walked away
Unfeeling, unchanged.