You Destroyed Me

Those three words have been hovering for the last few days.

Actually, these words, in their entirety have been hovering:

Go to hell.
I loved you more than anything, and you destroyed me.

I’m probably giving these words a life they don’t deserve – or rather – a life they don’t want.  I’m sure that little word set would love to scurry away, their dirty work finished.

But they stick.

I’m struggling

Passer Mortuus Est

Death devours all lovely things;
Lesbia with her sparrow
Shares the darkness,—presently
Every bed is narrow.

Unremembered as old rain
Dries the sheer libation;
And the little petulant hand
Is an annotation.

After all, my erstwhile dear,
My no longer cherished,
Need we say it was not love,
Just because it perished?