Remember, September with roses in bloom.
Summon October while death is a broom.
Tears mixed with blood, that’s Novembers doom.
And in December you were gone. - And I followed.
Around this neck, my lonely fate, not another’s chain.
Hyperbolically curved its indelible weight, a miserable strain,
Cheerless shackle, a daggers twist and forlorn longing, that is your name.
Could we stop comprehending, and can you terminate pain?