Love’s Labour’s Lost

My darling
I’m leaving you.
Our bed is icy, and I need the sun.
Love is blind, and conquers all,
But why does it so often fall?
We once danced in the daylight, laughed and schemed our dreams in the dark.
I’d make love to you in the morning, with the day lost in your scent
Until I’d crawl back into bed and fall asleep in your arms.
But it’s now like a sculpture’s embrace,
Beautiful, but stoic.
I yearn for some fragility.
You do not break. You are stone,
Flowers cannot mask our sickness.
Forget-me-nots to remember, a dozen roses to forget.
You cannot break, but don’t even bend.
I do not want a statue, I want a tree to grow tall with,
To laugh and count our rings once we’re ancient.
Our branches used to rustle in the breeze,
But I haven’t felt the wind for some time.
It’s winter whenever you’re near.
I’m leaving you for warmer weather.
By Sophia Fox-Sewell