She dances within thy brain rent free,
as I wallow and mope in her absence.
The pain makes me feel as old as a tree,
yet still I can smell her sweet fragrance.
Years may pass but it never fades away,
the feeling of having her heart near thine.
I try to stay strong, keep feelings at bay,
allowing good things in thy life to shine.
I cry as the memory of her fades, and then
the darkness comes to consume what's left.
These things are considered weak of men,
a careless thought created only by the deft.
It's not weak to mourn when someone is lost,
as it takes effort for hearts not to turn to frost.
YOU ARE READING
Sonnets
PoesieA collection of poetry written in a specific rhyme pattern. I hope you enjoy reading these sonnets as much as I did writing them.
