Frontal Folly

If you love me, rid me of this throbbing pain, this cruel joke, which has blushed my face with embarassment. Your mouth speaks truths of love I shun; truths which justify and validate our parting of ways, our separate hearts and veins. Love is patient, but not in me. Quite a haste my heart makes for you and yours alone. Love is kind, and kind I am and always will be to the man who cradles the key to access the gleaming jewel. Love has chosen us to wear its promise. I am clothed. Naked are you. I am warm as Spring's sunlight, and you are drafted with chilling winds. Here, take my sweater.