Reflected in thine eyes I see no trace
Just a slip of the tongue; a cut may graze
Thou wast my friend, an early summer grace
Leaving only blistering winter’s haze
And although thine words weren’t spit with spite
I knew thou would leave me in haste, at last
And the strings that grip me shan’t only blight
The ache digs deeper, and a knife is cast
A last spring breeze, I desperately cling
Thou is l...
