love poetry

i can not tell you now
lady, your heart has turned to dust
we who stood
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
a pen of steel
the agony of having too much power
i know what you're going to say
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
just as my fingers on these keys
at dawn, he said