Tis better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all.
–Alfred Lord Tennyson
Or so renaissance poets say,
Claiming to not love is like a winter frost,
Their poets though, don’t they truly know the way,
Have you ever loved and lost?
I have, and it cuts me deep,
Like a knife slicing down to bone,
It left me piled up in a heap,
Lost, bleeding, and all alone.
Now I sit in my dark corner,
Trying to remember the feeling of life,
I cry like I’m a lost lonely mourner,
Wishing I could sing to my darling wife on a fife.
The horizon lies so far in the distance,
Does anyone truly rely on my existence?