For six months you were in love with me. Suddenly you left me flat. In the year since there have been two more. Is half a year the longest you can make a relationship work? What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you love and let yourself be loved longer? L.W.

My heart, it was a cup of gold
That at his lip did long to lie,
But he hath drunk the red wine down,
And tossed the goblet by.
My heart, it was a floating bird
That through the world did wander free,
But he hath locked it in a cage,
And lost the silver key.
My heart, it was a white, white rose
That bloomed upon a broken bough,
He did but wear it for an hour,
And it is withered now.
“The Prince” By Josephine Dodge Daskam