I'm not sayin' that she doesn't love,
I'm just sayin' she has love like poison;
and, no, not the good kind of poison;
an innocuous enough seeming poison
of which I wish ne'ermore to partake.

We had neigh incompatible sorts of love,
yet seemed rather complementary as lovers.

Now my form of love is to
remove myself completely from her,
to remove each and every last trace;

I mean it not so much with that intention,
but that result seems to be a side-effect of
efforts to remove unnecessary contention.

So be it.

I can only hope it's not outrageous
for me to claim it in the name of mercy.