How Dublin has broken my heart

I loved you

but you didn’t love me 

back; and the rack of

your punishment is the


affliction and test

of my life.

And although I am unloved

so grandly, and saddeningly,

and absolutely wittingly,

and where I am loved kinda truly 

the lies do persist,

and resist 

and maintain their tainting

of soul, I still chose 

to believe this terrifying 


verse might change.

And Dublin, fair city – and

grander town – of centres and

spaces and the

greatest of faces, 

you have broken not 

only the heart 

I opened wide but 

have killed all 

purpose and goal in

the soul which once,

so recently, strove

to recover 

its beauty and 

entirety: the entirety 

of a man who 

argued he could be

healed but now

only bears the weals 

of the extremest of 

sufferings: the

failure of lost love,

thrice done.

4 thoughts on “How Dublin has broken my heart

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