I try to find out where I broke my heart, which blow it was that did me in, but no pain or grief has slain my soul—
I dwell upon a tenderness, a touch, a helping hand, and then the dams are burst. Hot rain upon my burning face. I sob, a child in your arms.
How have you defeated me? How could you love a monster so? Did you not know how deadly kindness is to me? The day I love’s the day I die.
Then die my friend, safe in my arms, and make my breast your grave.
Tale Told 