O.C. Bearheart

Self Preservation

Love-struck, I wanted to believe
That you could do no wrong, and yet
The gashes on my heart conceive
The words you spoke: I won’t forget.
But time, that rushing ocean purge,
Is such a fickle mistress, yet
The beating song is now a dirge;
Has it become our epithet?
Our love, unwavering and true,
Is not a lie to me, and yet
I will not see your point of view:
Those words you spoke, I won’t forget.

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