CONFESSIONS OF A WIDOWED VIRGIN

<a href="I Walk the Line“>

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…and I’d stay here
waiting and wanting
wishing the sky was you
and the stars were your eyes
I could smell you in the wind
and see your cocky smile in trees

oh! don’t be flattered, I’m only joking

psychotic; that’s what you made me
a love bird with no wings to fly
now I brood over pain in basilicas
anticipating the smiles that elope me
too far from the farthest sorcerer
the game of love, is what I dread the most
for if love ever had a sting so evil to bear
I was the unfortunate victim

of bars and rods, and bolts and hinges
I curse the day I set my eyes on that thing
the thing they call love, I call it nonsense
this is how I now sit to mourn and tell
how I became the widowed virgin of love

By Ruth Brodrick. Copyright 2015

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