I hardly think this is the best poem I've written, in fact I wouldn't be hurt if some said it was the worst. I might also have been navel gazing. But, its a whack at something new, and more personal to me. You'll find no perversion here....Please! Hack it up. Some lines are odd. Oh, and the French was on impulse. There was no good word meaning "to give" that began with a D in the English language, so I ventured off into French...To simply say "give me" I just didn't like it.
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I am mistress to a love that shan’t speak
It’s name. It’s one such love without physique
Or romance to donnez-moi. Love takes from
Me my weakened heart; this love makes me numb.
We haven’t affection for each other,
But still this being’s cold hand will smother
All my words that fail to reach those who I
Need more than ever. Should I say goodbye
To them? For this cruel love locks me away.
Oh, love, free me soon! I wish not to stay.
“Love, what is your name?” I ask in distress.
I should know—
................................I'm Anxiety’s mistress.
