Fever
Day by day my love is growing worse
for all the trials, the frustrations, the death crises,
funerals and shocks, erupting into fever
that grows worse for every day.
And there is nothing you can do about it
but continue loving faithfully
with self-effacing self-consuming self-destructive constancy
ignoring how your limbs are aching,
how your strength and powers fail you,
how your work and life disintegrates
and how your love grows more impossible for every day.
Despairing you may cry with pain from hell
and thereby only make the matter worse,
more painful, more excruciating, more acute a torture,
while your only comfort and reward is
that at least you never failed in love.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 400 times
Written on 2007-02-18 at 11:29
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