If he had been braver or less brave.

If she had loved him more … or less.

If they had been honest or not so.

But he wasn’t, she didn’t, they weren’t.  

 

And so the passion of frustrated desire

fuels the fury of her disappointment.

The one she would love to distraction,

she now hates to destruction . 

 

All has become nothing at all.

Anger disavows the love, denies

the terrible assault of compassion

that would re-open the wound.

 

What she once craved, she must deny.

What was close, must be distant.

The hurt must be transferred; sanity

restored with shallow pride.

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