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.