Softly. Silently. Slowly.
You wandered into my heart.
Made a pagan learn what's holy,
shot down with a single dart.
Or was it the other way around?
You did nothing – it was I,
who roamed until I found
the realest dream, the truest lie.
I gave up the fight.
Tendrils of my affection,
uncontrolled and light,
still fly in your direction.
I close my eyes to your indifference,
but still feel it cold and harsh,
Like a castle in the distance,
Beyond a hostile, dark marsh.
I'm sorry, love, you're not to blame;
This ******* has all the fault.
You never asked to play this game,
I locked myself inside this vault.
A cage of my own making,
A trap for a fool,
Giving always, without taking,
Drowning in a shallow pool.
Truly, dear, I ask for naught,
for I have found my peace at last.
Feelings cannot be bought,
I leave my hope in the past.
And these lines put to rest,
Even when I leave this realm,
They will be my very best,
The last leaf on this tree of elm*.
27.01.2020.
(for S.)
*in Celtic mythology, the elm tree symbolises both death and creation.