Girl's Letter to Shakespeare
Let me to the marriage of untrue, uncompromising minds admit some perks; just for the sake of the argument!
Love may still be love even if it alters when it alteration finds
even if it, for a moment, bends with the remover to remove; it may come home...And even if it doesn't...It's still love.
Oh yes, it is a sudden flash that comes and goes in waves!
It is an ominously flickering orb; it is the drifting barque itself- going up and down in the blind- sinking down, being spewn ashore, seting sail over and over, battered and warped...but still it does!
It is the darkness that embraces the lover when their lover's gone and makes their shadow seem larger than the world itself.
It is what makes one half look puny when missing is the other half-
-whose worth is consatntly and exaustingly exalted-
-by whom all credit for their sacrifice, and some that don't belong, is taken-
Still, it's love that's missing.
Love is most of all Time's fool, very much like rosy lips and cheeks.
and within His bended sickle compass does too come. Still....it will have been love.
Love does alter with every year, with every decade; love shifts with every waking minute of every waking hour.
And that's how it bears it out far past the edge of doom! All the way to the abyss and back!
Ever changing, ever shifting but undying for all eternity or maybe even for one day; for one more day! Still love, is what it's been!
This may be error and will upon me probably be proved-
-and while I have but barely writ...and badly too...I know that no man, woman or child, ever loved...
the way that I loved you.
(And call me a dirty, filthy thief and an impostor; a bad plagiarist and a corrupt soul, all you want. I don't care, I had to say it... Or better yet, ignore me, bitterness loves solitude!)