Thursday, July 12, 2012

Sonnet 3

If I have you, when we're too poor to eat
We'll have each other, savor hearts and souls,
And when the landlord kicks us to the street,
We'll live in writing desks and rabbit holes.
But food and water, shelter, sunlight, air?
If you're not here then these will not suffice.
So while the chance I'll lose you I can't bear,
I choose to play the game and roll the dice.
You say you melt; I hate this change of state.
I need you solid: that's my tragic flaw.
To know our end, I call upon my fate.
O, Lachesis, give me my denouement.
To perish by your side or say goodbye?
When faced with such an option, I choose die.