One of my curls delightfully wraps around his finger,
My hand reaches for his finger, sizes the awful curl,
A word of hate strikes the lover.

You love me, but what is love?
Love is patience,
Love is kindness,
Love is wise,
My love, we are none of those things,
Our love's impatient,
Our love's cruel,
Our love's foul.

See the flower in the desert?
Under the dreadful red sun,
See the petals as they fall?
That is our love.

For you,
M. L.