The Madness of Privation

Apr 09, 2008

The sultry depths of unrequited love
Spawn the boast of passion’s lurid schemes.
Tailored by the song of turtle doves
One wreaks fulfilment on one’s tainted dreams.

The chance encounters, wilfully contrived,
That force the object of the heart’s desire
To spin and run and desperately to hide
Or face th’insatiate wrath of lovelorn fire.

Speak to me not of patience, nor of care;
The love I seek, there holds no tenancy.
Say nothing of a constant, mindful air
Despise them all and cast them to the sea.

For I shall siege thee with uncounted flowers
Possess you every day with gifts adored
And in your dreams repeated on the hour
My latest words will etch on your headboard.

My jib is trimmed to sail into your heart
My sinew to the purpose, taut as rope.
You shan’t escape my love. You shall know that.
You shall not find a refuge from my hopes

Not even from this cell from which I dream
Shall your desire for freedom set you free.
You are my object, fantasy, my theme
Just wait. In years, my time is done in less than three.