The Saga of my Youth

I kissed a shadow for too long
Then woke to find him dead and gone
Yet I was sure, in him did trust
That what we’d shared was more than lust.
Imagine my dismay to find
I was the last thing on his mind.
His photograph to me was true
But not his self, for he had new
Loves lining up around the block.
When I returned it was a shock
To find my friends had all succumbed
To charms I long had thought my own.
Deceit, I feel, to tell the truth
Was part the product of my youth;
They feed to us those pretty lies
Of love so strong it never dies.
Though for a while I felt a fool,
I wonder was it me the crueller
Of the couple – for my doubt
In his sincerity throughout?
Or am I blameless in the role
Of wronged maid by real arsehole?
Perhaps the simplest and most true:
I fell in love, but not with you.
For my love was a fervent flame
That you felt not, so who’s to blame?
I cannot answer this, my duck,
But miss your kisses daily, fuck,
I crave your scent dear, even now.
And do not dare to question how
I feel your touch upon my skin
And still I must not, can’t give in.
For you are with another. She
Deserves not what you gave to me.

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