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Did not the promise whisper from thine lips?
But did it happen-as I suspect that thou liest?
Were I but one with so dulled a mind,
Who could not forsee the insincerity in thy tongue’s discharge?
I am-they say now-a pitied heart,
Though I lingered in the possibility that thou
wouldst return anew.
It is a shame-but not a single regret
Could be found in the depths of my mind.
I am not truly this dull minded soul,
I am not as foul hearted as they rumor.
Thou mights’t surface; come back again
With begging apologies.
And when thine own bitter tears fall,
Thee may find me standing tall.