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Sick of Love, Out of Love; Because of Love, Never Loved
June 6, 2011
It is only ramblings of a man,
One with a cruel disease.
He panics and fidgets,
Hoping to catch a smile, a glance.
No, he has fallen in too deep.
Now the poison is in his mind,
It contorts all his images,
It carries away his sleep.
Sometimes he asks,
Will I ever be fine?
Will I wake up again?
No, I say, no;
You’re in too deep.
His heart rushes,
His pulse vibrates.
Each muscle won’t listen;
Each movement is involuntary.
Ah, I say to his friends:
He was such a good man,
One with thought and pride.
Now he’s sick in bed,
With only love on his mind.
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