You are my doom, a Laura reincarnate,

and I Petrarch, bound to you by fate.

I'd pray for salvation, but whom to implore?

You? Or a deity I believe in no more?

.

You lurk, uninvited, in the corners of my mind,

the edges of consciousness, never hard to find.

Invading my thoughts – it's not very kind,

it is a death sentence, that I myself have signed;

Because I made no attempt to dispel such a thought,

visions of you, my heart blindly sought.

.

You are my drug, and recovery I shun,

I've tried rehab, but addiction has won.

You wouldn't ask Earth to give up the Sun,

or a bullet to fly without a gun.

So, trying to quit – with that I am done,

After countless failed attempts to run.

.

You are my sorrow, but these lines ease the pain,

as burns and bruises hurt less in the rain.

I turn my heartache into verse, and time slows,

as bittersweet loneliness into words flows.

I drain myself of the pain, I keep it at bay,

however, it never completely goes away.

.

In these poems, it is you I address,

but I wouldn't ever let you see this mess;

I write so this torture would hurt a little less,

as, repeatedly and fruitlessly, my love I confess.

So, these lines will never ever go to press,

as you won't hear my lips whisper: "S".