I still feel you — a ghost inside my heart.
I still stumble at your portrait and stray,
Then wonder how I loved you at the start.
If I could bid my yearnings to depart.
If I beseech and beg and plead and pray,
ٍStill I will feel your ghost inside my heart.
I still remember back, before we part
Your name was the only language I could say.
I wonder how I loved you at the start.
Myself, the sands of time have failed to guard
against my own surrender to my own decay.
I still feel your ghost inside my heart.
Perhaps the gods were too cruel to chart
your haunting of my soul by night and day.
I wonder how I loved you at the start.
I should make out of you, a work of Art.
You would have made a perfect book or play;
To lastly kill your ghost inside my heart —
To learn how I have loved you at the start.
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