Untitled Soliloquy

Thou hast forsaken me oh my love. Thou hast left me desolate and used up- as thou would a cast off stained garment. Thou hast stabbed my heart with the dagger of iniquity- my heart bleeds, not life’s blood but bitter tears- would it were not so- but truly my life’s blood- that my sole might be set free from this body and I become a martyr to thy perfidy. My desire for thee burns as a consuming fire within- I ache for thy thighs and thy scent- I lust for thy breasts that are as ivory hills caped with pink. To me thou were the fairest of the fair- the purest of the pure- yet, thou hast betrayed my love. How shalt the gods of love consider thee? Shalt not fair Venus in all her purity loath thee? And shalt not even Eros despise thee? I seek thee, but I do not find- I write love sonnets to thee, but they go unread- Oh, if only these things were not, and once again we could be as one, but alas, they are, and we cannot- So I bid thee sad farewell my love, and may the gods of love forgive thee, as have I.