Stuff

These Eyes of Mine
Thine heart is a fickle well;
it soon forgets what it previously dwelled.
Mine eyes see through thine heart.
Didst thou know it contains a cupid's dart?
Thy thinks, 'this bow must be wrenched out,
or mine heartsick shall always stay about.'
But, as thee surely knows--
Such bows
never stick for long.
They go away with not a pang, but a mournful song.
And, I see that thee will consign to oblivion
everything that hath passed in this tropical paradise of Caribbean.

not finished. this wasn't an actual attempt. just something i thought i'd write.