I ruined you—I’m sorry as I can be.
Love doesn’t ruin those who love,
But if you love, and try to flee,
Love frowns on that. With poetry.
Those in love are always making up their mind.
Is the other true? Beautiful? Kind?
I was true—and jealous; I knew
Those as loving as I wanted to love you, too.
I made up my mind, and you did not.
I loved more and you loved less, and there’s the whole plot.
I kept writing poems, but you went.
Poems you received, which I anxiously sent
Now languish. Lovers should stay away
From poems. Read news as poetry.
News is passionate. Poets are insulted, too.
News is good. Let the news ruin you.