Dearest Mrs. Winslow,
I’d climb up your window
Just to catch a glimpse of you,
But that I cannot do.

I’d call your name and wait
For you to awake
Just to say “Good Day” to you,
But that I cannot do.

I’d carry the sun on my back
To change the sky from blue
To scarlet to purple to black
Just to say “Goodnight” to you,
But that I cannot do.

I’d make myself notorious and glorious in your eyes
To blind you of those other guys
Just to spend some time with you,
But that I cannot do.

I’d open doors and handle coats
Romantic poets I would quote
Just to be called a gentleman by you,
But that I cannot do.

I’d speak to you with “thou” and “thee” and “thine”
To win your heart and make it mine
Just to share my love with you,
But that I cannot do.

I’d buy flowers, chocolates, rings
Even plan a wedding
Just to always be with you,
But that I cannot do.

Mrs. Winslow, I’d break mountains and cut trees
To build a home for you and me
Just to live a life with you,
But that I cannot do.

Oh, I’d tear apart the sky,
Beseech the gods to make time die
Just to be infinite with you,
But that I cannot do.

What can I do, then?
Simply love you from afar?
Hoping to meet with you again
Yet wishing to forget who you are?

I’m nothing but a child without you.
Nothing but powerless and weak.
Won’t you feel my love for you?
Won’t you hear the words I speak?

Please, Mrs. Winslow, do you remember
How my love for you
Once was greater
That it made you love me too?

Remember, beautiful temptation
How we’d laugh at each other,
High with our own infatuation
And so in love with one another

Remember how we’d drown
In our serendipity, for serendipitous we were
To find someone to bring us up from the ground
And fly us everywhere.

Remember, Mrs. Winslow, dear
How that night we first made love,
You were so full of fear,
I thought you would run off.

But you stayed, Mrs. Winslow, love
And I whispered in your ear
That it would be okay,
That I would always be here.

You whispered back, “I understand”
And with shaking hands
I helped you undress.
Highlight of my life was the rest.

Remember, dearest Dove
How we made magic with our lips
And finally made love
Under the beautiful eclipse.

Remember how I once was enough,
How you swore your love to me,
How though weak at mind, my heart was tough
Never wanting to set you free.

Remember all those years,
With days and nights
I can’t shake off my mind.
Memories of a love so bright
It’s burnt all my insides.

Remember that with your departure
My heart pleaded for your presence
Making life for me a torture.
Always haunted by your absence.

Remember how from flying,
You brought me to stumbling.
How our radical fallout
Kept me up thinking about
How I’ve reached insanity
Thanks to your sudden apathy.

Oh, excuse my French, dearest lover,
But what the f*** is wrong with me?!
When will I recover?!
When will I be free?!

Dearest Mrs. Winslow, sweet dove,
I’m smoldered by your apathy!
What happened to our love?
Now there’s only agony!

What happened to our youth?
When we’d go out and run about
And always speak the truth,
Thinking our love would never die out…

Dearest, Mrs. Winslow, my first love,
The only woman I’ll ever think of,
My angel sent from above,
Is there something we should talk of?

Don’t you think that I don’t know?!
That I don’t see the man you’re with?!
Had you spoken up, I might’ve let you go
My heart’s no toy for you to play with.

I travel incognito day and night,
Disguised as bird or squirrel
And I find such a sight,
Catching you with him in acts sinful and immoral.

Oh, how I want to hurt you, Mrs. Winslow!
Tear out your heart and throw it out the window!
Maybe then you’ll know how pain really feels,
How the sorrow agonizes and slowly kills.

I’d enjoy your suffering,
Laugh at you when you cry…
Of course I’m only bluffing,
I, myself, would rather die.

Dearest Mrs. Winslow, why can’t I let you go?
When my anger eats up at my soul,
Why do I stay here and not get up and go?
And how can you destroy me, but still leave me feeling whole?

Why, my love, is it so painless
To cut me from your life? While when I try, with distress,
It feels as though I stab my heart with a steak knife!

You and I both know, Mrs. Winslow
I’m too weak to let you go
And far too blind to ever know
That my death will come of my own woe.

I say goodbye, now
For you’re not mine, Mrs. Winslow.
And pain to you, I won’t allow.
So with bloody hands I sign:
Your once beloved,
Mr. Winslow.