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Why, Love?

8 April 2010

Why do I love thee, thou joy-filléd love
Though with thorns and thistles hidden throughout
My scallop’d rose, my sweetest turtle-dove
Of spurious fancy and purest doubt?
I love thee for the many ways you choose
To haunt and vex me, shame and perplex me
And if your love became a gallows’ noose
I would gladly climb the box and hang me
Upon it. I love thee for the laughter
And the tears for you shed upon my bed
Pool’d until fit to rival sea-water
Like the absurdity of passions dead.
Wild and untaméd are my thoughts of you;
Breaking and making are what lovers do.

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5 Comments leave one →
  1. 8 April 2010 20:43

    well done

  2. 8 April 2010 22:45

    Bah… *chops off the thorns* It’s true, but I don’t like thinking about it this way. *runs away*

    • 12 April 2010 16:23

      I’m sorry Karen–I didn’t mean to upset you with a little mocking pseudosonnet.

      • 12 April 2010 18:30

        Uhuh… I’m suuure you’re sorry….

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