At night a jealous tide rises.
Looking at old pictures my mind drifts.
A flood of torment then comes
In the form of ‘what-ifs.’
In the arms of another she now abides;
Memories hearken back to that
Loving gleam in her beautiful eyes.
My spirit must be tempered,
But my heart tells me otherwise.
Many lovers have come and gone,
So why for her does my soul still yearn?
The mysteries of love are far too
Complex for one to learn.
In the interim between rue
And finding love again, I burn.