Love, I am your slave, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Love, I am your slave.
No attempt my heart to save.
To cease dreams of her,
Where I’m always a beggar.
She not willing to barter.

I’ve promised my soul
To her, yet her heart is coal.
Darker than the night.
Could it be she is afraid,
What I give but a charade?

She does not listen.
My each advance she does shun,
But seeks her solace,
In the smiles I have to give.
Eager to hold me captive.

The sage shakes his head,
In caring of what I’ve said.
Won’t offer pity,
As my plight will not cause death,
But be pain with every breath.

Love can be a curse!
Its pain, there can be no worse!
Eternal sadness!
Impossible to undo,
Until death does call for you!