Love is whatever you can still betray.
Betrayal can only happen if you love.
-- John le Carre
The way you kiss my inner ears
and evanesce my garnet fears;
the chords you strike, on strings so thin;
a tender melody within;
the key that melts my secret cave
and leads to death the frightened knave;
the warrior who tries to shield
emotions that would try to build
and blossom brightly, sun or rain;
believing both will summon pain.
This onion’s heart does know the truth
that you; so sweet, but so uncouth
have screens of smoke before your heart,
a spider’s web -- we’re split apart.
But this is love? So I’d believe --
this friendship does naught to relieve
the hours I spend counting time,
nor does it make my heart sublime
from toxic gas to trusting gold,
nor does it make these new wings bold.
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