Unforgiving Woman

The night is quiet
And will not be disturbed
A poet sits by a flickering fire
Warming his weary bones.
He is out of the way of the wind,
Locked securely
In his gloom.

In his tired mind,
The refusing woman.
A slim form before him,
He offers her a heart
From a weak will
Which she has crushed.

Estranged forever secure,
Devices of a woman of the world,
Molding his life
To snug her budget.
There is nothing left
But a empty sky
In his eyes.