Question

Was it love that took a bow,
In the dying embers of intimacy?
Or was it love without a vow,
And your heart cold with obstinacy?
Did I tread a stumbled walk,
With you in a foggy night?
Or did I hurt in my daily talk,
With words you deem not right?

Was it sight that drew you near,
To feel to touch and to hear?
Or was it pride that pulled your fear,
To device to deceive to endear?
Did you wish upon a dream,
In a dimly lighted sky?
Or did you stare in a gentle stream,
At the heart you led to cry?

Was it just your minds insanity,
That played on your hearts stupidity?
Or was it just your untold cupidity,
That plagued on my hearts naivity?
Did I seem so plain and vulnerable,
And childish and sufferably excitable?
Or did I come across as malleable,
When I thought of you as likable?

Was it my sad and curt review,
Suggested I couldn't get over you?
Or was it the bimbos in you queue,
Cheap whoring nymphs in pairs of two?
Did you not see me daintily clad,
Arm in arm and exceedingly glad?
Or did you just fail to take the cue,
By your own shame and your own worse due?

Well, truth be told I shouldn't bemoan;
I got over you and so will you!