If he reads this, he knows what it is about. Everyone else just gets an immodest peek into my follies. A see-saw of emotions, especially since its history to all but me. I did say I gave him my heart. It begins to appear that I did. One of these days I'll retrieve it?
(sonnet # CCCLXXXIII)
I know I said my heart was yours, yet you
Deigned not to hear. Or if you did, 'twas all
A joke, at least it looks that way, my call
On deaf ears falling when I cry. I'd rue
Such follies; often do; yet still holds true:
I think anon of you, bemoan and crawl
Again to mem'ries merry store; the pall
Of my mistakes the only gloomy hue.
The other fellows worry me 'cause I
Think I am yours. Go laugh. Or triumph o'er
Me for being right. Forget. Is't but a lie?
Else why move on and all my cries ignore?
Don't answer, but of course. I guess I'll sigh
And cast this off. Or long for you e'ermore?