Love is a jealous thing to have in your breast for it instills wrathful envy among the rest so bold and cruel their discontent may come up their flames and swords do rend the heart corrupt i have felt their scarring bitter lust and they have dis-served our once holy trust they stole away my greatest friend and without her I stand alone in the end but for sweet passing moments i find that i can taste a notion of similar kind for brief heartbeats i remember when the stars shone for me and you again the trees and flowers are alive in bloom and i am sitting with you again inside your room the world seems livable up there in your loft held in your arms so alabaster soft but then comes death...