No one believes me when I say
I might have fallen in love before
It was addictingly sweet and bitter
It left me clueless and sore.
But then again it might have just been a fling
Fleeting and brief
But I always have a hard time moving on
Even when I was in grief.
Still, a lesson he was
And he was something I didn’t want ever again.
I tell you hopeless grief is passionless,
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness
In souls, as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy dead in silence like to death— Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet;
If it could weep, it could arise and go.
– Elizabeth Barrett Browning