A_Perfect_Sonnet

Ben Stivers
1/30/06

Cure My Hands, Because I Can't Stop the Obsession

Okay, you caught me.
I'd probably be better set inside a casket than behind the pen.
When this spine finds its pieces splintered into parts of the whole,
Will it be her hands rebuilding this anatomy?

I oppose the sinking of these ships outside the harbors.
Yeah, I'd set my love ablaze and watch it burn for days.
Pace her heartbeat to the whirlpool swirled in the waters,
But I could make us new.

Scrawl, scrawl through the journals,
Page after page filled with her name.
A lifetime spent behind the quill.
A lifetime spent to power this mill.

"Draw, draw, draw up the ink and tell her, tell her you love her.
Bleed, bleed, bleed out this dream and give up the search."

I wrote her for years
And ground my letters with the millstone.
And I tried to feed her my love,
But her heart was set inside bone.