How Passionless My Heart

Sorry for the many times I have loved you. For the endless nights my images leech, And dote upon your memory. Had not it that your peace drives my last nerve to insanity, - Need I mention cupid, the missing factor in this equation?- I fray, find me less a wife. I do your foil find pleasure in, Than that the clergy should hear my vows to you. I tremble at the very imps I term your kisses. Were they, only less sweet? The ugly I so love in you- Only this would be my death,- A blunt, in a knavery of emotions so deep within Yet roaming much without, about, unorthodox in time and sequence