Sonnet IV: Love’s Game’s Gone

If my bare heart shall be your blank, fire onIn words the wounds that’ve wound you up, let looseYour ammo’s shot (that being, your amors gone),On target that beats, e’en till the fuse diffuse, Shoot, here’s fair mark: that hearts hurt (on hearts) hound,Look, fair game, when the hart’s in the clearing,Beastly love pounces itsContinue reading “Sonnet IV: Love’s Game’s Gone”