There are three stories to tell. His, mine and his.
One blamed, one to be blamed and one blameless.
All he ever did was love me, want me, give me.
I saw, I see, and all that tenderness, I was happy.
All he ever wanted was reciprocation, undeniably well-deserved.
Instead I flaunted his gifts to those who haven’t heard.
Meanwhile, charmer in armor and white horse, he lifted me up with soft touch.
A new feeling, blissful and tender, I forgot my love. Life is such?
We rode into the sunset, a pretty pair we were.
Till guilt reminded me of my waiting Dear.
‘I messed up. I don’t love you. My darling awaits me, I must go.’
But he kissed me and my body lay there helpless and low.
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