Golden seas parched and hot.

Send ripples through my mind.

Of days forgot, and days past most we cannot find.

It was her who stood in this abyss.

That lovely woman Claira whom I rarely miss.

She took my soul, stole my heart, tore it from my chest.

That awful pulsing beating heart she holds firmly to her breast.

Ungrateful and sedate full, she rot me to my core.

A little frightful, a little spiteful, no! I don’t want her anymore.

Why of all the places does she show up here?

Of all the others she goes to no other but here?

I yell, I stomp, I curse these fields.

And yet it does not yield.

How much power can denial bring forth to wield?

Sure I loved her, but now I hate her, No! I don’t want her anymore!

That once sweet Claira turned sour then horns she bore.

So ungrateful! So hateful! I spit at her sight!

So distasteful! So haste-full! All we did was fight!

Hate to love her, love to hate her, Yet I still care.

Maybe if I give her one more chance it’ll be fair?

One more test, One more rest.

With me in my bed, one more breakfast to be fed.

One more bliss-filled kiss.

One more heart sown to be torn.

For this rose I adore has many…of many thorn.