at first 'twas lust what moved my soul–
her sweet allure unparalleled–
and left naught but an empty hole
when this lust's love was then withheld.

thus lust gave way to kindness strained–
compassion shown to be repaid.
and, when 'twas not, was not sustained…
for love's not love that need be paid.

each tasteless guise was stripped away–
removed to show what lay inside:
deep, pain-filled rage on fierce display,
which–brought to light–as quickly died.

with no more veils to be rid of,
i finally saw through all my lies.
all that was left was simple love,
and that, my dear, it never dies.