Loss of Love
Love lost,
Is never truly gone,
No matter the rents cost,
Love lost lingers on.
She never truly committed to me,
Simply wished for a toy,
A heart of stone you see,
To the softness of a boy.
She was young as was he,
Yet her soul was full grown,
Her mind a tragic soliloquy,
Of what fate had sewn.
The boy was simply a canvas,
And who better than a pained artist,
To take his heart and encompass,
The innocence with a lusted mist.
He knew her as a saint,
She saw a den for sin,
He knew not of the paint,
She began to place within.
Now her ruse is complete,
His love is true,
Her trickery was discreet,
Now to turn brightness to blue.
Love is never lost,
It festers from within,
To the owner it bears great cost,
She lives on, as he lives broken.
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