With liquid flowing words, she loves to taunt,
yet offers only sand to my parched soul.
I stare into the mirror, visage gaunt;
an emptiness that echoes can't console.
We once walked hand-in-hand within a glade;
she tempted me with images so sweet
that I could not resist and so I stayed,
a glutton for each word that I would eat.
It was a game. Too soon, the garden paled.
Her promises turned bitter on my tongue
as my attempts with pen and paper failed;
the lyrics trapped within me left unsung.
A masochist, I'm torn twixt love and hate
and yet the pain is sweet. I sit and wait ...
A Round 116 entry for "Invalid Item"
Form: English Sonnet ~ or Shakespearean sonnet has three quatrains and a couplet for a total of 16 lines. The rhyme is abab cdcd efef gg. This form is written in iambic pentameter.
masochist ~ a person who is gratified by pain, degradation,
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