Vicissitudes

He speaks not to me
Yet every word a spell
I succumb to his sorcery
Where I seem to dwell

Sometimes they’re dark and stormy
His words become a gale
The vicissitudes of his cruelty
He tortures me in hell

But mostly they are loving
It’s how my heart has fell
Forever his devotee
There’s not much more to tell

© Delia Ross. 2020

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