Homage to Pessoa

I once loved.
I thought I would be loved.
But I wasn’t loved.
I wasn’t loved for the only reason that matters—
It was not to be.
I unbuttoned my white gloves and stripped each off.
I set aside my gold-knobbed cane.
I picked up this pen…
And thought how many other men
Had smelled the rose in the bud vase
And lifted a fountain pen,
And lifted a mountain...
And put the shotgun in their mouth,
And noticed that their hunting dog was pointing.