Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
I loved this poem growing up and dreamt that one day I would find a love that was fixed, unshaken by any tempest. Alas, I was wrong. I love being in love and I crave for the touch of my lover. This blog is a way for me to get over my pain and to distract myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment