In shadows cast by bitter disillusion,
A heart recoils from love\'s sweetest intrusion.
For some, the tendrils of affection cling,
Yet you, repelled, find love a vile, foul thing.
In tendrils spun by Cupid\'s fickle art,
You see a trap, a cruel and twisted part.
The roses\' scent, a sickly, cloying brew,
As love\'s embrace reveals a tainted hue.
No sonnet sweet or ballad\'s gentle verse,
Can quell the angst, the sentiments adverse.
To you, love\'s taste is bitter on the tongue,
A song unsung, an anthem left unsprung.
Yet in this disdain, a narrative forms,
A tale of hearts that weather ceaseless storms.
For even in disdain, a truth holds fast,
Love, cruel or kind, a die forever cast.