She said I’ll love you till you’re worn
She said I’m breaking to the bones.
The kind of stuff that breaks a home-
The tortured cry of a widow’s moan.
She said, you can’t believe that love is real
An innocent faith to a beau ideal.
He paused and asked, then what was us?
She replied, what we have is beginning to rust;
After all, it was just misguided lust.
They went to the garden
He said, I beg your pardon, but I’d like to disagree
I’d like to think there was something to you and me
She grabbed his hand
Removed the rusting silver band
And gently said:
My darling, my love
My starling, my dove
Your hands on my neck are beginning to choke
Isn’t love just one cruel joke?
He blanched and raised his eyes and spoke:
You can’t deny something so pure.
Remember those nights when you were so secure?
Wrapped in my arms
Like ashes and fire,
Brandy and wine,
The seraphs above declared us divine.
Now should you deny such a beautiful gift,
You have my blessing to go off and drift
Because my love for you is so true
All I want is happiness for you.
She caressed his face and kissed his lips
Said, you were right. What if love does exist?
And as her final sting
She picked up his ring
And walked away
Only to use on another, someday.