An Unwise Man Said to Me

I still love every woman who loved me.
I loved them all, and many more besides,
The ones who succoured me through dangerous tides,
The ones who suckered me relentlessly,
Even the ones insisting I was free,
Having enthralled me. I daydream of brides,
Of narrow straits and reckless suicides,
Of picnics underneath a shady tree.

I understand their feelings changed. I do,
Though mine would not. Sure, someone broke my heart,
Insulted me, mocked me. I wasn’t smart,
I was a willing victim, sad but true,
Letting affection rule. But “endless rue”?
No; fierce love underpins this, and all art.