Fragments of a broken tale lay like dirt in a tidy room,

Heavy heart with a weight of utter gloom,

Though light of another doth glow within,

A restless mind settles not for thought of sin.

Though love of that kind no longer be mortal,

And other quick blooms, where there be a small portal,

Lust in love doth seekth still,

His heavy eyes, and docile will.

I know now what I doth not know then,

That these eyes were better locked in a pen,

Save them from sights of lust which filter,

And settle in the mind, never to alter.

Memories exist as a bitter burden and pain,

Of the once loved and lost in vein,

Yet love may grow anew,

And eyes may bring a love, so true.

Vows shall begin to bind,

Though never at ease, the restless mind,

Thoughts linger still of love passed,

Yet finally, at last!

Future settles and love begins,

To shadow what now ends,

Forgotten be he who was adored,

Joy is at once restored.