I always do what I need to do—
Not for me, necessarily;
I always consider you.
Loving or hating, it’s all the same—
As long as there is passion
Which the investigators blame.
Investigations come up short.
There’s always some nuance
They don’t report.
As I loved you deeply, I found
You loved, too, but doubting
In love is always profound.
By my intelligence, I knew—
Or should I say in my heart—
You loved me. That’s why I loved you.
There is a theory—
Love is more mutual than we know.
“Does she love me?” an important query—
If you love someone truly
It is because they love you—
Not if they happen to be Betty or Julie.
But with certainty
Came ironically whispering doubt—
A certain doubt in you and me.
Doubt is always the price we pay
When certainty is the goal—
Certainty finds doubt along the way.
But I did what I had to do—
With certainty you loved me—
But I did what I did with nuance, too.
Love should not require nuance,
Eyesight, or quickness;
Love is not a jungle pounce.
Yet…sweetest love must navigate
Those shadows, those villains
Of secretive desire and hate.
Passion has a cunning eye
Which treasures love,
But naturally is a cunning spy.
But most of all give me a calm mind
To check undue passion—
So love’s considerate and kind.
I own such a mind—this story
A poet wouldn’t tell
Unless it ended in glory.
But three’s the number, not one or two—
This is what I did
And what I did I did for you.
You were sought by another
In the manner of sisterly things.
He pretended to be your brother.
The jealousy of him, outside—
But with an inner position—
Began to turned the tide.
But there was no tide to turn—
I knew our love was a sea,
A star, a book—to memorize and learn.
I tried to be light, but I was stern.
There were doubts. There were doubts.
Things of love are tedious to learn.
How shall the good take action? Delicately.
I bore witness to his position—
This was not expected of me.
You were put in a place
Where he would have less influence.
You avoided my face.
The shifting landscape saw
Anger instead of love.
You left it to the law.
You were blamed as much as me—
Though I was blamed
Slightly more, officially.
Surprised, you hated.
Surprised, stunned, offended.
Weeping at times, I waited.
You still love me—I knew.
Is that sad? My story is over.
My love was great, but finished with you.
We suffered this whole while.
I waited for years—remembrances of nuances!—
A poet with a sad and puzzled smile.