the simple account
– love ran out
no-longer sustained by
medieval bracelets charmed
with romantic favour
you could see it
as attributed by fate
grafted in years of hard labour
sold down the river by
impossible dreams
they were fairy tales
too deeply inured in
endless mythologies
unsecured debentures
naive fantasies failed
and it’s slaughter day
with a willing cancer
in the shape of me
behind a mask for
a heart broken
love ran out for you
and you were freed
while I am nailed
unrequited
for eternity
© 20 July 2009, I. D. Carswell