I write to you this unholy hour,
with candlelight dwindling, my idle hand I bestir,
and the depths of my heart I devotedly scour.
My love for you refuses to forsake me,
yet my devoted core hardens at the image of your eyes.
Inordinate is my affection toward thee,
it dwarfs the enormity of the seas of Marseille.
Wax drools from the cierges mouth,
indicating my retiring hour draweth near.
Erratically I wish to conclude this twelvemonth peace drouth,
but to acquit thy indiscretions I remain unsur...
Adesina Aanuoluwapo John - 2017
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