The Lovers’ Tomb

To look upon the past and see
That moment when the passion died,
You slipped and fell away from me
In each and every tear you cried.

Then you entomb yourself in pride
Between resentments’ bitter walls,
And there, within your mire bide
With hands in chains, the end befalls.

And through that mire sorrow crawls
With blackened hand to drown the mirth;
An ocean’s weight upon you falls,
From sickened wombs, a vile birth—

Such horrid thoughts caress the earth
And all the doubts your woes exhume;
With anger cast aside my worth
And lay you in the lovers’ tomb.