Love's Sweet Sickness Poem by John Thorkild Ellison

It always fills me with surprise,
The way you control my thoughts and hypnotise
My heart, whatever little disguise
I care to wear, however nonchalant
I try to be. Can you see
That whenever I look into your eyes
I know I'll never be free?
You are my jailor, you have the keys!
Can love really be such a dreadful disease
That whoever contracts it always dies?
Oh, surely this is fantasy,
A poet's gilded lies!
And yet, indeed, you mean so much to me
That I really do not care
Anymore, you can do as you please,
I'm willing now to be your slave
From this day forward till I reach my grave,
And if I die
Of Love's sweet sickness
Then no-one will wonder why!