The Pains of Love: A Sonnet

Oh love, how I do suffer to be thine,

With sharp afflictions tormenting my form.

Without thy love, the shivers rush my spine

Like biting frozen cake I thought was warm.

The longing of my heart, it pulls at me

Much like my sock doth tug my hanging nail.

Thou knowest not how I have burned for thee,

Like chili pepper scorching my entrail.

The pain I feel, how reminiscent of

My neck’s mild pang from sleeping on it funny.

If thou shalt not consent to share my love,

I’ll melt with sorrow like a nose that’s runny.

I hope my meaning thou canst soon unriddle—

I dieth for thy love, but just a little.