I see a body that I want to love,
But my heart is cramped, stone.
I hope for a love that I may keep,
But my mind dreams alone.
Tear those shreds,
Hide those patterns,
Wither those petals,
Torment me not my narrow bed!
Leave my mind to love its make.
Opiate my senses; dull them with the dead
That my visions may be brighter, prime.
Narrate the loves in all Romeo’s veins
And jeer and sneer and shed a tear;
“Loving is a crime.”