As intelligence comes of the mind,
love holds its great reign in my heart.
I silently curse the wicked Fates,
for their cruelty forced us to part.
And still they relentlessly taunt me,
by your sweet voice I am not smart.
It is the deadliest of their tools,
in form of a soul piercing dart.
As they now spitefully torture me,
I fear it shall tear me apart.
And as I sit in my empty room,
I see that truly a muse thou art.