Written by: Cyndi MacMillan

A bloom of abomination grows in the bed

of yearning that we planted long, long ago,

our relationship, once tender buds, lays dead

and my inner soul I now struggle to sow.

Sweet affection has been replaced by tart scorn,

the passion I cherish has released its last flame,

taste dried tears kept in the heart that you’ve torn 

hear my weak attempt to give this loss a name.

While you bamboozle, bury a guileless truth,

I will simply mute each contemptible lie,

the deceit of an old fool reclaiming youth

loots from a rich past and a future decries.

You spread your seed in the dirt you penetrate,

then lift my clean sheets, too late, much too late. 

*A modern sonnet