The Mad Suitor, an old-style sonnet

My love, I came for you like wine
emerges from the grape when crushed
beneath a pale foot. What other sign
of mortal love might prove a male hushed
by woman’s charms, than when I killed
your suitor on the lawn? Your father felt
it bandits, dear, I know, but maybe chilled
by depth of love, and having smelt
its scent before on passing me at market
once, you knew whose hand had dealt.

A gambler’s metaphor, my dear. I’m rogue
as well as outcast, as you know. Brogues
be damned, I’ll walk the lawn again tonight.
And kill whomever else loves by moonlight.
Written by Casted_Runes (Mr Karswell)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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