A man who could not trust

With my foolish love, I once fell for,
After words  seductive and sustained,
A man  who could not trust those he implored

Struck by anguish plain, I then desired
For love  to be rewakened and attained
With a new felt love, I still was for.

Like a worm or beetle on dirt floors
I took to earth to feel the dark again
Forget the man  whose trust was quite impaired

Nervous and uncertain, still unsure
I tried to find the measure of this pain
Caused by loving love   while immature

An agonising ache seeped through my pores
As if  I needed heavy violent rain
To cleanse me from the man who called me whore.

And  now I am appalled and to, ashamed
If we’re touched by love, it leaves its stain
With  ferocious grief , so undermined
I wander in the marshlands of the mind