That Was Not Love

That was not love; it was only a spell
I cast, and on myself, victim and mage,
Placing my own soul in the golden cage
And tossing both keys in the wishing well,
Enduring more hard hours than I can tell,
More sadness than a man can ever gauge.
I finally agreed to turn the page
When you complained about the noise. Do tell.

I know that I was screaming, day and night.
I’m sorry that you had to suffer, too,
But that was unavoidable. You knew,
And could have quelled my fear, or used my fright,
By holding me too close, to make things right.
Instead you laughed, so that our troubles grew.