Was It Love?
Oh, but can the pain of a burden so heavy as deceit
Be cleared away so easily
With the mere touch of a soft hand to a wet cheek
Or the mere whisper of a sensuous word to a closed ear?
A burden of such magnitude,
A burden of such deformed placement,
A burden of such seemingly occult origin
Must be a burden of an offensive and doomed destination.
To say it will resolve itself,
To say it can be at all resolved
Is to say that you believe in more than miracles –
It is to say that witchcraft and sorcery are at the root of your being
Or has lov been falsely used and accused
A victimized self created deceit
In and of itself
throughout the duration of its unbeing.