Epitaph for an Ex-girlfriend

No matter what I would say or do, Seven months of your mistrust, Almost drove me to dust. Trying to make you believe I was True. I told you once, without trust there can be no love. Tried so hard, even believed I was to blame; You had me hanging my head in shame, Despite being a good and innocent man. And I look with pity on what you’ve become; A sad, twisted, lonely, OLD woman. Bitter and nasty, cruel and inhuman, You will only reap what you sowing; Your evil mind will be your undoing. Incapable of trusting, You are incapable of loving. And it is only now that I clearly see, Because you never trusted me, You never once loved me. So many accusations, All untrue. But for you, All your male “friends” On whom you would ALWAYS depend, Were just waiting for us to fall; Ever ready for you to call. Which makes me wonder, Was it guilty sensations, Which guided your accusations, And made you doubt, The one who was True throughout. If not, then it is madness in you, That makes you think the way you do. You know you almost destroyed me? I have never felt so much pain, Nor thought I would ever love again. But things are now different now. Another woman, A better one than you will ever be, Healed my heart and helped me see, All I am and all I can be. Helped me to grow strong, To sing a better song; This Little Bird now sings loud, And proud, Of all he is. For she took the trembling bird With gentle handling, And a heart full of kindness And understanding; With loving words she healed his pain, Mended the broken wing and broken heart, And showed him how to fly again. I bear you no ill will; I am only tinged with sadness At that madness, Which destroyed The only True love you knew, And which you will do Again and again, Until you end up alone in the end; No lover, no friend, Will mourn your passing. But then that day has already come; The bitterness you hold inside, Has frozen your heart, and it has died, Along with any hope you ever had Of loving, Or being loved. And so my poem says goodbye. This Little Bird, now free to fly, Soars above you, at last seeing how, To let go off the past; You are dead to me now.