It seems I’ve lost my way amidst your chill.

Was only yesterday our love abloom

but your intemperance a wanton spill

of words as cold and listless as the tomb.

I’ve wasted quite away from your cold draft.

A sullen gray has settled on my head

and you, your frozen pauses, seem quite daft.

My heart endangered by your talk, instead.

Oh, rose of romance, bent amid the drift

I pray the sun will waken this cold trend.

Will love , now lost before your sullen shift

be gone and dead and never come again? 

A warmer, kinder glance, a tilt or phrase

might yet, my icy sadness, you erase. 

Love poem, Poetry, Sarcasm, Shakespearean sonnet, Sonnet