Foolish

O, foolish heart,
That I with may bear this heavy weight,
Though logic from my thoughts depart,
The merit of these words be naught but great:

I bear with all folly and despair of one so blind,
Am victim to the fickle whims of Love,
Suffer with grace through words unkind,
Though pray for sweet confliction thereof.

With each wounding word, I am mere shards,
Shattered at Love’s feet for briefest mirth,
Though each remark soon after he discards,
He henceforth in action proves their worth.

My heart my Love, are not akin ,
What damage one, the other scarcely touch,
While his quarrels blight the core within,
Mine qualms make not the slightest outer blush.

Conclude from this I am but rash,
To not depart from love so stifling,
From one so bold, so coarse, so brash,
As if each heart scar was but mere trifling,

But my heart knows not a wiser path,
My Love gives most brutal and most sweet,
I wish nothing but for revels in its aftermath,
And though pains, beg for naught but its deceit.