My heart is a coffin, to tell you the truth,
With each beat a nail to obscure your youth,
Together, upon the velvet cushions we lie,
Coverlid, our roof, lying but in truth.
Oh how sweet it is, our mourners to see,
Stricken with grief, everyone but we,
Though our eyes are closed, our hearts still do beat,
And it is so vivid to be dead with thee.
Still if it were so, a vain man I’d be,
For in this casket there is no place for me,
It is my own heart and to you belongs.
Correct me if I’m wrong, my faith is worse than death,
Missing your presence with every single living breath,
So my only one, come and die with me.
Categories:
coverlid, dark, death, gothic, grave,
Form: Sonnet