Sonnet 54

Since there must be this time, then be it now.
Yes, you must go, so bid your sad adieu.
Do not fair lay in wait to knit my brow,
With well honed words designed to run me through.
For months this heavied heart has slowly bled
Well knowing that this time was sure to come;
And bleeding so did thus release all dread,
Absolved my care, and wore my conscience numb.
We duel no more; all rancor here is spent,
And that which heaven ordained is surely gone.
So if you were a gift from heaven sent-
Then send me to that hell where I belong.
For love of god, you know I kept my oath,
And your black heart did but betray us both.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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