Stop your fluttering heart,
my muse.
Your passion lie dead at the banks,
of the river where I left mine,
long ago.

But if, by chance,
you find the deep longing,
To go back, to pick up
our forgotten romance,
Then love,
flawless Aphrodite,
Let it be known that
not once had I waivered
from my boat,
anchored at the shore of your heart.

But do not forget,
love,
That it was your transgressions;
your spiteful pride
that has drifted our lives so far apart.

And never forget,
my darling muse,
That it's to you all my love I impart.