the second poem,
from a lover who
should not be allowed
to love at all

of all my vices,
my black heart is my
w o r s t,

it digs its claws
into all that is
g o o d,

killing it slowly
with illusions of
l o v e,

my sweet regina,
my sweet cloris, i am
s o r r y,

the illusions were
too much for your
k i n d n e s s,

maybe you thought
you could
h e l p,

there's no helping
what is already
l o s t
-LUSINE ARGENT VOLKOV