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Depart, my love, and leave me here alone;

I’ve had enough of you to last an age.

Far be it for my life’s blood to bemoan

some harsh past ending that bestirred my rage,

to hold out misdirected scenes – past now –

and mete out judgement for no better end.

This time, this here, I give myself this vow,

to save my strength, strive less from where I tend.

You know the darkness has some secrets left,

but still the answers aren’t disclosed this time;

yet leave me darkened as I am bereft

and I shall serve some purpose in this rhyme.

If love had naught of hooks to pull along,

there’d be more ease in finding love was wrong.