: I wrote this when I was 14
SLEEP WELL, MY SWEET
I have but now to talk of dreams,
And Lover's love of what it seems.
Not of truth, but lies I speak,
Out of favor, love is weak.
If brawling love makes loving hate,
What, then, dust thou dost create?
Parting not, is sorrow sweet?
In parting thus, a freezing heat.
Love starts no deeper than one's eye -
Star-crossed choice : do or die,
This tangled web that we are weaving,
-A heartless effort in deceiving!
Still walking sleeps that cease to end,
Oppressions tears, that pretend-
Provoked madness, most discreet...
In groaning sadness, "Sleep well, My Sweet."
--K.Roessler circa 1996