The grass is just as green
As when I saw it last,
The countryside serene
As ever in the past.

The lark still twitters on
While circling in the air,
But his so carefree song
Can’t ease my soul’s despair.

While neither can the sense
Of freedom and release
Which I experience
Change morbidness to peace.

Nor can whoe’er I meet
(However kind their smile)
In any London street,
Bring warmth to one so vile.

The city rushes on,
The wretched world still turns,
The same bright Sun which shone
Before, still freely burns.

And little babes are born,
Old men and women die,
Yet none are so forlorn,
Nor could they be, as I.

The world is of veneer,
The way it was before,
But though it may appear
The same, it’s not, I’m sure.

Because a flame has failed,
A flame which once burned strong,
Yet faded, as I paled,
To learn: My Love is gone!

I walk the hungry streets,
Of my grim and mirthless host,
And in its twilight meets
I wrestle with your ghost.

I lay you in my bed,
And love you in my heart,
And cherish all you said:
How could we ever part?

And when the pain has grown
Too much for me to bear,
I close my eyes, disown
Your haunting, hurting stare.

I sink into a brood,
Or lose myself in rhyme,
But through my darkest mood
You come again in time.

I try to exorcise
Your mem’ry, but in vain,
For soft, tormented eyes
Soon pierce my soul again,

And seek out what was good,
Whate’er that might have been,
For I’ve not understood,
Nor will, what they’d once seen.

Yet as your spectre fades,
My melancholy stings,
Your banishment invades
With worse imaginings.

I stumble from my bed,
And stare out into space,
Confused, I shake my head,
Then see again your face.

And with it comes more pain,
It hurts so bad, and yet,
Did I command it: Wane!
’Twould hurt more to forget.

March 14, 1985

I guess it’s true, what goes around, comes around; you were my one true love. And I broke your heart.

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