Sonnet Of Betrayal - Poem by Max Gatrell
An enigmatic mot,
A pearl of purest certainty,
Not easily forgot,
If we trick, contrive, beshrew,
‘tis us that we betray,
Imperfections come to view,
Forever holding sway,
When we’re wounded by a kiss,
We can’t condone the reason,
Though perchance it’s our remiss,
That led our love to treason.
Indignation I agree, an ache with every slight,
Nonetheless we could forgive than live a life contrite.
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