Sonnet XII

Chastised and failed I wander base as dirt
And hide my broken spirit from display.
The dashed remains of friendship tear and hurt:
Resplendent shards of beauty gone astray.

I weep when I recall the times now lost
Or ponder on the tryst which once we shared.
Not once did I forsee the coming cost:
A pain so soulful - friendship unrepaired.

Cannot we heal the harm that has been done?
Together bind the wound and tend the ache?
Such tasks would terrify me on my own.
I need the clasp of friendship 'ere I act.

	Yet herein lies the paradox we've made:
	How can one start with what one means to make?