HELENA ( ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ).

do you know how deep a grief of a love must be

to drown out that grief of familial love lost?

it is a love that finds itself too fond.

and makes a thorned mockery of all other woe.

i am infinite in the weight of melancholy i possess;

but you are gilded-greatest, encased closest in heart.

please, believe that i love you, in a love unlike stories.

i will not persevere, i tell myself.

i want my love to be a sacrificial-lamb.

spoken only in secret whispers i perceive as unheard.

do not envisage me in a picture of desperation.

love-yearned endings often are illustrated happy.

yet the evidence suggests one half is but

a discarded person to prettily end the narrative.

perhaps it is all mere politics, though.

could fortune cry itself away into a non-entity if

i were raised up? could hands of healing unite hearts?

i think if i stood better, you could love me. you would love me.

fate and stars seemed to align so well. merry promises of

mother and king and the night-sky so beautiful.

i never meant to bruise you so foul.

i would take my leave as you will not take my love.

now betwixt two cliffs i am so lonesome in my new loss.

the love locked away before and the bare agony now.

i am dispraised to the world but we are thrust together still.

my heart serves now as a harbinger.

i may prove your death-become, and i

curse the cruelness of my love-spoken.

i leave.

i pray.

pity drips kind and dirty from the crevices of too many.

pilgrimage burnished feet are tearful as they see you in love.

her company is comforting and it is a strange thing.

strangers always so sweetened by my presence;

yet the one i love hates how he has reaped me.

so we are shameful in our trick to you and i am sorry.

the fruit my womb possesses is irksome in the come-about.

it comes accompanied by a ring.

are you deserving of my death after you stripped my heart?

some sliver of my love thought you would relish it.

i suppose i know not how to view the world.

the lens i hold is curious now.

i think we both had our troubles, my love,

and i pray we were not so stricken with problems.

life presents itself once more in the figure of me and mine.

i am a phoenix-raised in surprise to all.

all is well that ends well and it seems to heal.

but i wonder if it is right enough?