Each time, when I force myself to accept that
He will not, shall not, could not love me still,
My heart and thoughts rebel and rage against it,
Leaving me sore and trembling through it all.
But when I say I cannot doubt but that he
Will realize soon his great mistake and come
Running to my door with pleading heart, take me
In his arms and kiss me sweet, I am numb.
It feels softly good to think it, simply warm
To hope, but it seems all too real, and then
I realize we would have to work at it
All over again.
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| "Topaz" by Alphonse Mucha |
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