He let his tears fall on my bosom
As they stained his very masculine face
Hearing his sobs penetrating to my heart
Straight into the pool of emotions
A wise lover cried,
Love is pain, pain is love
Cupid had not missed his golden arrow
Unreturned love was what was killing him
She was his pleasure
His only pain
The love he was yearning for so much
In Shakespeare’s words
The fragrance of the rose
Lingers on the hand that casts it
He had smelt her perfume
Her acceptance was all he needed
To drive away the madness called love
If only till his tears dried up
She could not be wrong in loving him.
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