(...)

(…)

I do not want to hear you pray for me
In the words you will not say to me.
I surrender myself only to your mercy
So do not pray for me.

It was a story built on love—
It was a story you had never heard of,
A tale to make such lies as angels cry,
And in the end, one of us must die.

The twisted sky of sundrenched blue
Reminds me of what I lost in you:
A ray of light that only I could see
And pray that God might pity me.

O! God! Let me forever sigh in thine ear,
For I know he shall never hear.
To water the flowers of the sweet, sweet grass
Let my tears fill to flowing the parting glass.

I remember my heart in your grasp,
The blood spilling in your clasp—
Together we buried what beats no more:
So long a burden my spirit bore.

I forgive you, I forgive you.
As I hope you forgive me, too
My trespass upon the field of bliss
In search of your soul and your kiss.

It was a story built on love—
It was a story you had never heard of,
A tale to make such lies as angels cry,
And in the end, one of us must die.

© 2021 Marten Hoyle