A Sonnet For The Noble Kind Poem by Charlie Milles

I can no longer trace your words back to your lips
They're but a laconic light in an otherwise dark abyss
A love without hypocorisms; a platonic osculation
Altruism is the greatest form of masturbation

I'm not a reflection of your soul
Much less, a piece of the whole
I'm just a haunt; just a ghost
A hushed thought or riposte

Light candles and call out my name
Turn off the lights, then sit in vain
Because I'm not coming back
To this life of desolation and lack

Love isn't how it appears
It's just a drug for the junkie
And I've felt the user's fears
So don't dare say you love me

Don't inject yourself into my seams and veins
So that I'll bear the tracks and feel empty pain
Pariahdom doesn't heal, nor does it make you stronger
It just makes the dark, darker and the alley seem longer

Sincerely yours, Charlie Milles
The rapist of an inner-child