ust you mourn the memory of things lost?
Waste not your appetite for love on me.
You knew the risks of love and all the costs;
They’ve always been there but you did not see.
Do you desire to hurt, and bleed, and cry
To want not to love, to want not to live?
Should destiny desire for me to die
Then let us accept the course it will give.
Lest you should still think of what could have been
Only to waste your chance for love made new.
I ask that thee think of me not again,
Should death ever take me away from you.
That which loved me in death has made me ill.
And that which loved me should not mourn me still.