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Sonnet 1: Ghost
Today love is a fleeting phantasm
That one day possesses, the next day flees
In favor of reason or some such force
That by will or otherwise, stakes its claim.
And so a stake runs through my heart that I,
Who once was sure and did not think that love
Would be a poltergeist that takes respite
In assuring my reason does not rest,
I find myself at odds within myself
Trying to catch that which is fleeting
Sit it down, and say, "Stop toying with me"
And the same time, find it agreeable,
And thus the vicious cycle shall remain
That love shall haunt, and by reason sustain.
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I don't know what possessed me to write a Shakespearean sonnet, but I did. (See what I did there? Eh? Eh? Oh, I am terrible. Shame on me.)