There’s a poem tearing chunks out of my heart.
A need, a fiery need to craft words
That will ensnare and capture your soul.
To define, to limit, to bind, to possess all that is you.
Each touch, each caress, each passioned embrace
Drives deeper the stake
With which you have impaled my heart.
Weep, oh weep storied Vlad,
Outdone by one, slightly less yet so much more.
His 3000 shades mock this curse,
Their little deaths pale into nothingness.
Your love, requited yet unrequited
Has me tethered and enslaved.
Happy serfdom, shedding bitter tears of joy,
Like Pagliacci I leap into the mask once more.
From “A Mixed Bag” by Rick Fontes