Requiem of a Love

The song we sing when a love dies.

Go on, my love.

Kiss her one more time.

I’m sure her bed is warm.

I’m sure you feel sublime.

 

Take her hands in yours

And promise the world.

Tell her you’ll love her.

Let your lies be unfurled.

 

And you’re well aware I know.

But do you care how I am?

No, you’re busy coveting

To even give a damn.

 

Soon you’ll move on

And find another ‘love’.

Not caring that you’ve torn

The wings from a dove.

 

So now I will sing,

our love’s requiem.

And I’ll mourn over

The rose cut from its stem.

Author's Note

Another ballad. Man, I've been writing some depressing stuff lately. Hopefully I will write a limmerick or clerihew in the near future.

Reviews

[TLK]

The imagery for this love-now-lost is a little opaque -- torn wings from a dove doesn't have the edge of anger/feeling for me to get in to this.