Enough

 Do you remember when,

you met someone who,

knew nothing but how to adore you?

When on a winter night,

you offered what you called,

your love,

from your heart's barren wasteland,

and you thought it was enough,

Perhaps it would have been better,

to have said nothing at all, 

than to have become,

the weed that,

strangled the exotic flower,

that your lover gave you,

Rare as your words of praise,

though your lover's compliments were,

always abundant,

and you knew this one would spend,

a whole lifetime by your side,

but you would only surrender your heart.

if feathers sank 

By springtime, 

your lover had read

of Tristan and Iseult, 

of Pyramus and Thisbe,

by the time you knew you were wrong,

your lover was gone,

having read of Mirza and Sahiban, 

of Majnun and Layla,

and knowing you

were not enough