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
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