Sonnet – Petrarchan -- ME

Too much to be written, too much to say;

I have written to you, despite the pain.

I pen what you never hear; words astray.

You never see me, my actions are vain.

I am a ghost, no peace, hidden away;

No warmth, my lifeless shell, cold again;

A ghost of my former self on display

Unaware, my love holds me captive, ain.           (ain = belonging to; own)

Thus, my love for you wanes thin with the moon.

As the crescent closes, so do my words;

An eclipse of truth brings quite death to me.

Your bliss, silences me; a loveless tune.

My grief cries to heaven; a flightless bird.

Now it ends; I am alas, in rest, free.