Sonnet I

The promises are few and far between
But somehow sting me deeper than your eyes
So tainted in betrayal, trust, and lies
When nothing has come hence from what it seems

Where tears will sit like dew upon my lids
So fresh, pristine, and heavy in release
The only proof that night had conquered peace
You rack my heart with what my soul forbids

So scheming in your ways I lose my view
Succumbing to the reasons that I fear
Though far the source of things that come from here
I find myself reliving dreams for you

The twisted pains of what your friendship brings
Are fit for no one but the devil’s kings.