Am I a fool, believing you are true

When my heart whispers oft it is not so;

A slave to love and virtue through and through

And yet I wonder where your truth has flown.

Your frequent absence stirs dark doubts in me,

Your explanations ever seem contrived

As though you think that I am blind to see

Such sophistry our sacred bond derides.

Why can’t you say that love for me is gone?

Why must we play this soulless sad charade?

Why should we linger if love’s labour’s done?

Why yet here kneel when every hope is prayed?

‘Tis best you go—no longer shall I bind,

In truth’s release, perhaps new hearts we’ll find.