Bewitched
Mon dieu! I cannot live with you,
a girl whose dark charms grew
for seven long unholy years
after we said, I do.
Oh no, I must be rid of you,
whose spells would turn me blue,
moving me to violent tears
with magic that you knew.
True, it’s true, I’m leaving you,
who’d melt my mind to glue,
and daily dig my heart out
to boil it in your brew.
Now, I’m going, cursing you,
your tongue a torture screw
racking me to finally shout,
adieu, you witch, we’re through!
Ralph
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