What is sorrow but the ghost of love;
Mourning, so terribly mourning over the loss thereof?
And I hear say, “It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”
I strongly believe they have been haunted by a Banshee’s call.
They have never been devoured by Love’s fire;
Never known the frigid grasp of Sorrow’s icy empire.
No, they have never loved; exploding in a Phoenix fire again and again
Only to lose the truest spark that had ever been.
And when the last flame tries to defy,
And you try to feel its warmth; try to deny
But the cold, the icy cold is all you feel.
That is when you know that love was real.
