The Post Is Bills

To love is to die upon a lover’s curse, It churns the guts to see the post is bills, A broken heart then yearns to see its hearse, As nothing, nothing but emptiness fills The gap she left with a cruel goodbye. My barren heart she placed where vultures feed, Without an offering for reasons why, Abandoned, alone, love is left to bleed, But why can’t I return to life before, Before you came to steal and kill my heart, With empty promises that rocked my core, My soul was lost before dear love could start. I can no longer see beauty of light Without love there can be only night. Form: English Sonnet