I‘d read about love on many an occasion
Love, they said, could kill without any exertion
Until last month this was abstract exposition
Inconsolable now; I’m “dead on the inside”
Love so pristine, which I’ve now rendered denied
Unless I can make mends, pure heartache will preside
Irreplaceable: You are a unique snowflake
Love so pure flowed between us; let’s not forsake
U R the only one, of this, make no mistake.
Anna Bidoonism 