by Rachelle de Bretagne

Created on: December 22, 2008

How did my heart deserve such treachery?
Or wretched treatment, stomped upon and broken,
No thought for what I felt inside of me,
Nor memoir of the words that we had spoken.

When in the darkest night, I do recall,
Our love, as real as love can ever be,
And then accept that you destroyed it all,
In some still moment of antipathy.

Hatred within your heart for standing still,
Trapped in a moment where you could destroy,
My heart, my soul, my feelings at your will,
And then put blame upon my soul, so coy.

That in the evening when the stars are high,
I lay in darkness ever asking "why?"

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