You were grand, with eyes like the emerald waters
Of two distant ponds.
And, you had the clearest vision, as a woman of realism.
And me, a man of idealism
Drew fantasies in curves, and grew obsessive
Over our love’s successive
Nature to disasters.
I became the savior for you,
As you had winter for blankets,
And I removed them
For the summer to cloak your bare shoulders.
Love controls the monarch
Most responsible with his wealth.
My wealth was a heart,
But, it would not buy our way past fate.
I grew to despise you,
For something you never did.
Where is my love?
It is now a pain
I am unable to avoid,
With grief that weighs heavily on my fingers.