What love to blame, my darling—what love to blame?
I loved you truly; this I thought you knew.
He loved you too—three hearts, two loves, one shame;
There love from twain your selfish heart abused;
Self-love is little more than vanity;
You played two hearts but for some baleful pride,
Brazenly flaunting both, for all to see,
To raise your worth, and thus true love deride.
I fault him not, for he was too betrayed,
Though what he thinks of me, I may not know.
Into the mists of time, I choose to fade—
Despotic pride ne’er minds where true love goes.
Pray tell, what have you gained for love of one?
Vainglory such has garnered love of none.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.