“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.”