The Curse of Love

Poetry of anger and dismay

You have grown into my heart
terribly tearing apart
my inconsistency,
my right to be
forever free
of your cruel art.

You have bit me with fangs
that threw me in the pangs
of torment too fierce,
of feelings that pierce
the on-growing fears
as a corpse that hangs.

You have spit me away -
oh, what gruesome dismay
to be held in your arms,
to give in to your charms,
yet to suffer the harms
of such cold-blooded fay!

You have taken me high
and from there I espied
my tumbling down
to the abysmal ground
where my cries have no sound,
where my truth is but lie...

You have spent my own life
in desire and strife.
I will not give up, though,
on the one that I know
is my angel of snow,
my soul's only wife.