I have no words for my sorrow.
Have spent so long in denial
That I should not be sorry more.
But I am. Pathetic fool.
I mourn a love that broke my heart.
I grieve with pain that presses sharp
And leaves me gasping no clean air,
No filter as I suck despair.
These tears that fall are loathsome,
Scorned. As am I but not alone.
The love that leaves me leaves himself,
And keens beside the weeping sore
That festered pus and putrid gore
Swelled to release and now engulf.
Thus we cry out, enough, enough.
Damn the future. Admit the wolf.
– Melody Curtiss