Indeed, how far badly it went our love, I cannot tell,
Though I do often ponder on it quite long and profoundly well,
The metaphor; the transgression of love into hate is not easy to state,
I wish all my love will not see its birth; when love abates
For sure on one thing we have no debate; you trust me
When I say you do abhor and disgust the core of my be
And I fight fire with fire; so I hate you with a hate
which is not in me naturally; it would fain annihilate;
And yet sometimes my heart sighs and faints against my will,
My dear love I wake up in the morning; I love you still.
What was the unforgiving treason to our love,
A sin to God above; none; our love was pure as a dove
The one morsel we need to decrease, soften and abate
The morsel of a pure impartial hate.
Since left uncontained it does hit lovers in a bright date
And forever seals their fate
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