Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
One Hundred and Fifty-Five Sonnets - 42. afire
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Sonnet No. 83
In life I have neither fame nor fortune,
And my hope hangs on by an onion thread,
While to the pits of anguish I tailspin,
Wishing the piece of me that still cares, dead.
This is perhaps one I won't let you read,
For my despair has no place in your life,
And my only wish is for you to speed
Towards my love and away from your strife.
But – my brain's hurt and tired; it craves sleep –
If I had a switch to power it down,
I could let me crumple into a heap,
And recycle every sorrow and frown.
Do you see what my tired mind says here? –
It wants to rest, but can only when you're near.
Sonnet No. 84
Everywhere my mind turns, inspiration's there –
History, Physics, Religion and all –
Disciplines upon our love come to bear,
That make of me a rhetorical thrall.
Once you sent me a poem you'd written,
And you did so with an apology,
Yet, it proved that you are deeply smitten,
For no other field offered analogy.
No one had ever done that for me before,
So it almost brings a tear to me now,
As it said I am the one you adore,
And all your poetry on me endow.
While outside worlds might help this inspire,
Your love from the inside keeps me afire.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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