Medieval veils
close the trails
of those left behind us
yet open the gate
between you and I
in our previous incarnation.
A lover spent
who paid my rent
on his sixpence
while his wife
reviled, as did I
to see him
go away-
to not return
but leave us both
in this world all alone-
kindred sprits were we
in our love for thee
but I your true soulmate
and she the one
you were sold off to
fo the king's ransom.
All is done now
as he is gone
I live the rest of my life
in misery,
missing the man
that brought me
the only hope
that a poor young woman
could have,
a true love's smile
only for awhile
did it last.
And though you may
think my part in this
menagerie,
is disresputible
my lover and I had
an honest bond
everlasting-
he never paid
in the end,
we were simply placed
within a situation
in which he
was taken by someone
that loved him
not as I did-
but owned him
by the ring.
Though I have his heart
and soul-
My lover, medieval, he,
lost at war
will forever be
mine in the end.
A tart you may say
was my calling,
but ours was real
set upon a seal
of our kiss upon undying love
when he left me last
promised to return
and to leave her, but, alas-
it will never be,
as he made it
not from the shores
of the war
but fell to the enemy's sword-
forever,
I work no more
but wear the black
of the wife
I should have been.