By the way, Caroline is merely a fictional character in this poem. I don't think I even know anyone named Caroline. I just finished this poem. It shows the depreciation from love to hate, but take it as you will. A Sonnet for Caroline --- I love thee! I love thee! Caroline, in you, nothing I loath. For meaning is gayly upon thee, Twisted and tightened with rope; For worse, nay, better! We seal our love with a letter With colours and passion from friends Seal it with wax, free of great tax In love, true we will meet again. My sweet Caroline What pleasures are thine Upkeepeth in our happy home? Feelings of lost, Frigid, as frost! Haunt me as I am alone; Our love, dare it dwindle As fire to tindle Will not as I will return soon; The seal of great red Gives hope to the dead Your letter remaineth untouched Whether damnation claim me Or sword overtake me The parchment will stay as is such. I will write again, Speak well to my friends And family, as I love them so. To Caroline is whom I speak, My future is becoming bleak Why show you no sign of reply? The shadow of love, faint from above Appearing to slowly wilt, die. Your letter remains, Though Seal may be chipped, With tear blotted stains I set ink adrift It will not remain there for long; I fear what I long, To sing you a song And tales of the sky freckled nights Will show you no care? Cast me a stare? As I preach about horrors and sights. Caroline! Caroline! Tell me of thine? And the blatant corruption you hold! For your seal has cracked A stab in the back All I feel as the parchment unfold! I come to you now, as time has allowed To finally see thy again! Celebration of wreath? Nay! To you I bequeath The fear and cold skin As sword I unsheath! The tears I have shed Sent from the dead Those tears that I so much abhor The fires of hell No longer will tell That I have been blessed with a whore! 'Til death do us part? Yea, I live by that creed No, please, do not rise I will sign off thy deed! May words be concise As blade shimmers red Have you now felt To be one with the dead? Should you be here 'What now?' would you ask I'll tell you, my dear As I sip from my flask; For last drink have I As my fate has set No tragedy here! Your deed has been met. Will this be a tale? Romeo? Juliet? Nay, their love is set Our's merely pale! And sealed off with love Floateth our curse Pale as a dove For better.. Nay, worse.