A love I cannot stop from giving you,
A game that is played solely by myself.
While attention from Cupid think I due,
All that remains is but a living hell.
So soft a gaze I feel upon my brow,
Eyes all ablaze with passion and fervour.
Yet sweet nothings ne’er fall from your sweet mouth;
I fear this be but a failed endeavour.
Although my heart so quickens up its pace
(Though only with Hell’s deadly elixir)
When perchance I doth get to see your face,
A sigh released for no words reach my ear.
A sad and lonely cry my heart doth scream
For of your touch I shall ne’er worthy deem.