“So soon must I go my love?”
Said I with bold Shakespearean jest
A giggle escaped
From her rosy lips, let suddenly out from her mind’s possessions
With goofy smile and posh accent,
She replied in kind to my intent
“Of course good sire! You will now take your leave”

A flood of mirth and good faith, a shower of genuine joy
Blossomed with liveliness betwixt our figures
Oriented sideways, laying on low-cropped carpet
Our laughing drifted freely in good humorous air
Dying slowly into breaths and smiles, her bountiful hair
Glowed softly in that room
Softening my jagged soul, fixing it with tempered gaze

Though Heaven’s eye and lovely Earth
Quarreled on that day, separated by grey droplets of clumpèd air
In low light, I still retained a clear vision of my love laid before me
In Venusian position, a blush from our previous merriment
Still traveled up her throat and up her cheek
Marking her lovely countenance proudly with color because of me

Those moments are now dead and gone
The ungrateful witch has left me to hang
Solely by my neck
In a noose of my own sorrow, growing tighter and tighter until one day I will break
And I will die and I will suffocate
Under the weight of my body and my baggage
This love was not real! Only a lust dressed up in *****'s clothes that shrivels up in the light

Bah! Who cares about wenches these days? The wretches
Merely prowl about the countryside, searching for untested men
Nay, boys
To draw water from, tying them down and breaching their chests
Reaching in and stealing their best
Traits and memories and garments and vex them
Out of their minds and out of their hearts
Out of their homes and out of their children’s arms!

Nay, I say! What, **! Dare you contravene my verity?
That my heart was broken? That much is truth
That I was told, “You are not good enough.”