Sonnet XV – Finishing the Hat
It’s time to turn all facts into fiction,
Allow my hopeless realities to die.
Make the heartaches into actors’ diction
And get comfortable with the pretty lie.
Into the grave, Love. Time for your demise.
I’ll show it more poetic than it was.
Attempting to make we Fools seem more wise,
Mere victims of fate, not our mind’s mad buzz.
As for me, the ink stained Lady Playwright,
I’ll have to show that my heart’s pathetic,
And my brain had turned off the senses’ light.
And eyes were blinded by the romantic.
My one hope is to make some drama true
And be half as skillful an artist as you.