I beg your forgiveness—madam.
If by sending you this—my last letter,
Somehow, I have, “crossed the line.”
But I can’t suppress much longer
the need to make you understand
how you ripped apart my spirit.
Remember the time you told me
that transgressions of the heart
are the thorns that shred the soul?
Your prophetic words came true ,
the day you vanished at dawn,
without so much as “good-bye.”
I can still remember when you promised
to love me, “until the end of time.”
But in a matter of days, your passion simply faded
Like the scent of a flower dwindles in the wind.
I’m not claiming back your empty promise.
Nor am I asking you to return to me—madam.
The wound you left in my heart is still bleeding
And my languishing soul reels in pain as it dies.
You said to me one day—Oh, queen of roses!
That love was merely a sentiment,
Invented by people afraid of solitude.
But I must tell you, madam—even if I offend you.
That you’ve never loved—dear, madam!
And will never care to learn how!
When love is real madam—it’s more than just lust!
And you love with your life, your heart and soul,
An ability that you—dear madam—never had!
In closing, dear madam—as I conclude my lines—
I—again—apologize if my tone appears harsh,
But if these curt words offend you, it is likely
that your conscience, at last eroded your pride.
I bid you now farewell—this is my final good bye!
And as I turn away, I pray for God to forgive you.
‘Cause though you broke my heart to pieces,
My soul now rests, for I forgive you--madam.