Loss of Love: A Poem
A villanelle.
Please read my usage policy before asking for permission to use this piece.
I loved you once, but now I’m not so sure.
Is there an end to love? It would seem so.
It’s quite an illness — there must be a cure
For loss of love — a potion to ensure
Boundless affection, in an endless flow.
I loved you once, but now I’m not so sure
That any potion that I could procure
Could mirror, even faintly, that first glow —
It’s quite an illness — there must be a cure.
Although I crave the mystical allure
Of budding love, perhaps all love must go.
I loved you once, but now I’m not so sure
That I can love again — as we mature,
I wonder if love’s something to outgrow.
It’s quite an illness — there must be a cure
For love. It leaves me sad and insecure.
I must have grown immune to Cupid’s bow.
I loved you once, but now I’m not so sure—
It’s quite an illness — there must be a cure.
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