In the beginning you taught me love
the kind of which the poets write
all-powerful — encompassing
a light that shone in a lifetime of darkness
we were illuminated in that glow
and that was your first lesson to me
I wrote you poems of passion
we whispered desire and devotion
ecstasy was our aphorism
and in our arms a euphoric world
our private universe and paradise
you made whole the hurt
and our love grew
you told me that you found
more than love, but need
and I agreed, needing you as much
or more
fated love, and I believed
for the first time in destiny
and the intensity of this adoration
and I consecrated my life to you
in sanctified sincerity and reverence
and that was your second lesson to me
then awful night, with no pity or compassion
indifferent to my distress then as now
did you decide you liked me better broken
and suffering? disdain for what was
or what could be
time does not heal all wounds
some fester and suppurate
leaking anguish and agony
as acid and fire, to
tear and grind down the man you once knew
and swore that you loved
silent savagery and sadism now your tools
where love once held sway, only
merciless despair would hold court
and this was your last lesson to me
that it was all nought to you, those words
and passions lost in an instant
as if you never felt them at all
and that was your last lesson to me

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