Love Sonnet XXIII
My heart is sick with a deadly disease
it suffers from lonesome, all by itself
trapped in shadows, I can't do what I please
like some lost book on a library shelf
my own dissolved in a stream of fiction
my heart weakens with my soul locked away
and loneliness is my grave affliction
your face can sustain me another day
I see it in you eyes, so bright and pure
that one spark of hope that can help me live
I know above all else you hold my cure
it removes this bleak toxin like a seive
it pains me to hide my feelings with stealth
and so I'd say thoust doth give me health