Baggage Reclaim

Love is a kind of madness and, as such, can sometimes hoist its victims to strange heights. Though love may cause a fever where it bites, this time the troops have quelled the pending putsch. I ask your pardon for our magic nights, those rhymes I wrote you, crackling with emotion: you'll overlook, I hope, my fierce devotion, and my defending you with all my might. I'm sorry. It will not occur again. A broken heart brings wisdom in its wake: I gladly drank the hemlock for your sake: I let your prettiness, your sharp disdain intoxicate me like your smell, your touch. Forgive me, please, for loving you too much.