oh, how thee has driven shards of blackened, soulless glass
into this faithful heart, for which you had so declared to love
to seize a life, from your beloved child, which was so cherished
knotted hair with anise and coriander lingered, and roses placed therein
hence the sun will set, but only once more for me, upon our lovers’ hill
father, you will find me dead upon this cold, dark and shadowed floor
never will I love another, my flesh will wither on a browning vine
you took the man betrothed to me, the man who would be mine