Shampoo147: Okay, this is the secods time i've redone this.
Ayame: We own absolutely nothing. Can't remember where the poem came from.
Farewell Love (Redone)
Harry looked down, gazing upon the blonde beauty that called herself his wife.
He turned and put the last of his belongings in his emerald trunk.
He had too much left, too many debts to repay.
She wasn't enough, she had too much. She was a bother, a whore, a deceiver.
She was a bother too much to him. A thorn in his side. He could not be controlled.
He wanted her no more. He loved once, but no longer. She had bewitched him for his money. his lovely red-head Weasley wasn't like that.
She didn't love him, so he got over it and saw that she loved his money. He had wasted enough of his time with her as it was. She won't get his money. He'll make sure of that.
Sweet Ginerva will get everything she deserved now.
He cleared his trunk and left the note, proclaiming a divorce and a prenuptial agreement. She had no access to his money, let her heart break. Looking back he sighed, before walking out, robes swirling as he walked out of the house, and her life, and into the arms of an affair that he loved with all his heart.
Farewell, Love.
Farewell love, and all thy laws forever
Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more
Senee and Plato call from thy lore
To perfect wealth my wit for to endeavor
In blind error when I did persevere
Thy sharp repulse that priketh aye so sore
Hath taught me to set in trifles so sore
And scape forth, since liberty is lieter
There, farewell: go trouble younger hearts
And in me claim no more authority
With idle youth go use thy property
And thereon spend thy many brittle darts
For hithero though I have lost all my time.
Me lusteth no longer rotten boughs to climb.