While William had his dark lady as muse,
For worship, love, abuse, disgust, and sex,
I had myself; my acting prop was you.
As aide in devious ways, you felt the best.
But in reality your life's worth more
Than waste, betrayals, and debauchery.
Like whiskey, you past parched lips I did pour,
And yet please know you meant so much to me.
'Twas beauty I perceived behind the black,
though sexy eyes you cast to seem a man.
Musical mind held talent most men lack,
And vision you have yet to understand.
To you, I know I'm vanished and not missed.
Yet still I long to know your forgiveness.
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