The heart that skittered in my chest
  betrayed the world before my eyes;
  the few who I had loved the best
  had spun away to alibis.

I looked and stared, I stared and looked,
  but nothing came to focus clear;
  the wind still smelled as fate had cooked,
  and I was neither there, nor here.

The truth was, I had lost much truth,
  but hearts that change look much the same:
  as I burned under self-reproof,
  consumed to feel I was to blame —

There is a hatred we can’t ‘scape,
  for it is everywhere – and whole —
  a lurking phantom in our shape:
  the forfeiture of joy
  and soul