Double Sonnet for My Unrequited Love
If I were but a braver man, I’d take
The sharpest steel I have, that is my pen;
And pierce my flesh, my wrist, my trembling hand;
Taking the crimson drops which flow, and then
Mingle with those: crystal drops, my thousand tears.
And lastly, in my recipe, I’d devise
For strength, the soot black smear of ink,
Unrivalled only by the sable round your eyes;
Those lashes that surround those lustrous orbs.
And so combined, the blood, the tears, the ink
With which to write my heartfelt faltering words
I’d take a page, and write there all I think,
My fears, my yearnings, my desires.
Those goals to which my heavy heart aspires.
And so, with words obliquely drawn
For I have written, or I plan to show
A little of the fire that burns within
My heart; and let, my dearest friend, you, know
That I accept what here I write:
A haiku concealed, concerned with dates.
I’d write: The mathematics of despair
I was born too early... You too late.
And you, whilst reading those sad lines,
Those words would spring from off the page
And enter through your eyes and pierce your mind,
And touch your heart, your soul, and at that stage
Perhaps induce one drop of love, to soothe my affliction
I am your addict… You, my addiction.