Curse the moon by which you swore your love,
For had she not changed, your affection would have remained.
Curse the sun by which you proved the fire of passion,
For displeased, he burned you and therein, your ardor waned.
And damn the seas by which you claimed the depths of devotion.
For fidelity succumbed 'neath salty waves.
Damned are the winds by which you whispered caresses,
For the tempest too, turned, and dug our graves.
Had you not trusted Cupid and Aphrodite,
The White Peony took you and bloomed as I wilted.
Had you not placed love in the womb of the Gods of Fate,
Then perhaps I might have been spared and not jilted.
You swore your love for me in haste,
Forgetting I was already betrothed to tragedy
My love became my woe as I too, disrememebered,
Falling into your fickle embrace - my love became a travesty.
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