To Captain Wentworth, from Anne.

There is a throbbing pain on the back of my skull

I know not from whence it came

Yet the more I try to close my eyes

The more I put myself to blame

It started with that little blow...

As far as my flawed memory goes.

When trust was put to trial.

The fatal consequences of denial.

The call of sin, the call of truth.

The cry of love, of hatred too

Of untainted affection, I know lesser still

An empty void no words could fill.

And what have you gained, my love..

By shifting smiles, and downturned eyes?

Bewitch me now, reminisce my demise

As I leave for a world above

You stand there proud, an unfeeling triumph

Over the innocence of a heart so pure

A proclamation befell the test of time.

Why would you care, or how?

When meadows blossomed in spring's mystique,

I left you this, a blasted heath.

No apology ever will suffice...

So I write those words with my eyes.

And yet, the foolish bond of love.

Yes, a fool I am, utterly beguiled...

Of jealousy and hatred I'd say lesser still,

A hollow silence no words could fill.

In denouement, I have nothing to say.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you-

But who do I fool this way?

Inspired by Jane Austen's 1816 masterpiece Persuasion.

A remembrance of books once lost to indifference.

Anne Elliot's monologue at the Musgrove Manor.