Oh how I wish I had his Art! I am two fools I know: one for loving you, And one for not letting go; When you draw away, and abandon me. When all is said and Donne, We are but simple fools; who in self denying Verse, lament our state and wish we were Otherwise, and in the sun, Of intimate love. Though none set my words to lilting voice, Nor sing my hurt to salve my wounds. Yet in indulgent penning of these words, I relieve my grief and find solace in Public pronouncement of my inner Sadness and despair. Your silence speaks with more finality Than I wish to hear. And I am Donne.