If you don't love me, then, do I love me?
For I within that love do view me whole...

Which season could compare to you my love?
Yes winter dreams are snowy as your skin...

Should I inform these pages of our bed?
Could words have words for what is most unsaid...

Concealed yet united,
with an assumed trust...

If I have ever lived to feel pure love;
No footprint of that love did leave in me...

Go find for me in all of botany;
The rarest rose amidst the sweetest mire...

Shall I reveal how oft my thoughts are yours?
As plenty as the stars do maze the sky...

Depression is; a desert well of sand
no water drops are left to tear the pain...

(I)
You left the fog that took your heart from us...

Am reaped into the nether realms of grief
with piths embalming loves' corrosive drear...

If truest sleep shall take my love aloft
as brittle fate appears to favor course...

Past week, on the night of Tiw
an uneasy candlelight wavered...