Sonnet I

The scene inside me boils with sudden stillness.
A sip from the cup you lend
Holds betrayal as my venomous end.
By poison I have been slain, it is no other illness.

I did not know what fate would hold.
Too quickly acts this cursed wine,
It rips my soul and breath from time.
As love, through treason, becomes cold.

Like a candle’s light extinguished
My life’s been blown away.
In mortal figure I here lay
As my story thus is finished.

I hope your life’s something worth more than a thousand years’ deceit
For me there is no remedy, for through the heart I have been hit.