Love, he has abandoned me,
do with me as you will.
Love, he left -- unceremoniously,
why must I love him still?
The best of me I gave to him,
the years, the days, the hours.
Precious little, in turn he'd given,
like dew to a wilting flower.
Love, he sheared away tenderly,
my beauty, my strength, my mind,
the gifts that were bestowed to me --
were swallowed in his pride.
Love, has he forgotten me?
Please tell me what you've heard,
I guard his memory jealously --
with him I'd place my worth.
--Lang Leav
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