Sonnet 432

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, of truth, still question where you go.
Your frequent absence stirs a doubt in me,
Your explanations ever seem contrived,
As if you think that I am blind to see
That sophistry our sacred bond derides.
Why can you not say love for me is gone?
Why must we play this soulless sad charade?
Why should we labor when love’s work is done?
Why here yet kneel when every hope is prayed?
‘Tis best you leave me now, our hearts unbind,
And we in honest purpose, soulmates find.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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