Your sins became a blemish on my mind—
A stain of dark betrayal and love lost;
A blot I hoped would pale with passing time,
Yet through the years I found that it would not.
Instead, love’s worth grew deeper, more sublime:
No fleeting fancy merely to indulge,
A sacred trust to brave the breadth of time,
Proud thought and action waiting to divulge.

Of vile deception, what remains to say,

Save pure love can be damned by wicked lies;

And when so blackened, what may love portray

That still is true, and cannot be despised?

But lo—a sweeter love expunged the stain,

While your black heart, in shadow, shall remain.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.