Sonnet 386

Do what you will, and may you bide in shame;
Dishonor every promise ever made,
Let each dear nuptial utterance burn in flame
As you in lust your very worth corrade.
The sweetest angel may yet fall from grace
So may you lag in second circled hell
Where I forever see your anguished face
Stare up in pain from that infernal well.
Perdition granted, you may take your leave,
Smug Satan waits for you beside the gate —
Loss of true heart your soul may yet bereave;
There is no time to dwell on love or hate.
Go then you must for he now beckons you:
A smile discreet…the devil has his due.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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