Tracing the lines) I’ve written many times
Of the countless accounts, pen and paper
Seem to scheme to compose wonderful rhymes.
My ideas and musings will taper
Off, cut short, and all I can think about
Is you. My pattern might be fluttering,
And I beseech you understand my doubt.
My heart is left to random sputtering
As yourself (a parasite) devour’d it.
I invite you to become nobody,
R.S.V.P. (more to come in a bit)
I ramble on, but plead to disagree.
You are my greatest befuddlement (times ten)
And in dips the quill (here I go again
