On his wife

I don't think I could ever
learn to love that woman
I wasn't trying to be cruel
I just think she's naive
I can't be the center of your universe
I am not who you think I should be
I like you and know you're decent
I can't say I love you yet
Maybe I'll never will
There's too much rage and anger in my head
that probably prevent me from ever loving you
as I should

The Lady

I'm a stubborn old women
full of pride and arrogance
blind to the fact of
the suffering of the pheasants around me
serving to my beck and call
All I could ever complain is your lack of presence
while I'm sitting on my chair
while your throne is empty,
My Lord.
The other people can gossip all they want,
petty. I'm deaf to their opinion.
My business is with you.

My loneliness is intense,
and because you're far out of my reach
I can't be sure if I can give you my heart and my soul
because it's become far too cold to be warm by your kisses

I didn't marry you by choice,
and yet there were moments
where I wished I marry you for love and
not just money

I found the castle stone walls cold and oppressive
but not as oppressive as my presence

But I think, my Lord, that I did and still loved you
for all of your faults
and I think, dear Master and Sir,
I can never get you out of my head
Not after all of these years
of being indifference, cold, and steel
to others and each other

There were times I cannot bear your silence
and I want to see a drop and lay witness
to a drop of your warmth

You starved me and cheated me of your love
and I wonder what sort of betrayal and torture is this?
Eros, the God of Love, must has shot me twice
one of lead to fill up my coldness toward you
and the other with madness, madness of love toward to you.

Tell me how a Lady show act toward her Master?
One with burning passion to match that of the fires of Hell?
I'm sure Hades himself would quiver at the sight of me,
for surely no one could be a better harpy than your own wife?

I want to forget everything you told me or made me feel,
but I don't want to forget that you held my hand in the dark
and show me the way.
I want to feel like what it means to be unloved by you
when treated with distance and silence,
as you sow and reaped within your ruinous affairs
and each of those nymphs were destroyed within my rage and jealousy by the near sight of them.

Unsaid and sad

My father hasn't been kind to me
Although he's a fair and talented diplomat
and his soft-spoken mannerisms and deciet to others
do well in the court
I think there's much on his mind
that he thought in his heart is best left unsaid to me
For I knew he did loved me
He died a foolish death not saying anything to me
So he paid for his silence
that I learned many lessons of learning to be
both cold and unkind
but I hide it well, with tired smiles.

My only question to him is thus: Did we make the most that we had?
Weren't you sad?