by KC Bernardo
In the midst of my goodbye, must I see
Your face a picture of sorrow and pain,
And your eyes filled with anxiety?
But if you would hate me, let my heart be slain
I will go, my love, and bid my last.
But before I leave, dear one, must you know
That I’ll be back sooner thus end your angst.
And that all these to you I bestow
Must I turn my back when this dream is for you—
This dream that has given meaning to my life?
Thus I ask, my lovely love, do heed me.
Since your hate would be deadlier than my knife,
There’d be no single blood that I would shed
If my lips would not speak these words that must be said.