Should I curse thee,
Even as you brush me free,
Without a care in the world, without a thought,
Even as I lay here, wondering what I saw in you, what I sought,

Is it possible, that your words were true,
Or was it just your treacherous brew,
Just another sly snare,
Punishment for my fascination with your soul, the dreaded fare,
For revealing all, for baring my wounded soul's damage without a care?

Yet, as days go by,
With my endless sigh,
I feel that you are but one,
Another fleeting sun,
And even with your setting, I am but at a loss,
As my heart beats for no other, my beloved.