"Limerence"

"This raven of which I dream
Has become my limerent subject.
I fear him, yet he lingers.

On nights when he begins to sing,
I am overcome by compulsive thought.
I listen for something familiar
In a language I was never taught.

I've yet to decipher his croaking,
Though each note stays in memory.
It goes on and on and on and on,
Until I mistake its warnings for my own.

I have lain awake rehearsing
Misfortunes that have yet to come,
And buried myself a hundred times
Before the morning has begun.

There is no telling what it mourns,
Or what calamity it foresees.
Still, I search each dreadful note
For some misfortune I might prevent.

Yet on the nights when he is silent,
I cannot bring myself to sleep.
I wonder what has silenced him,
And what has come too close to speak.

I have wished his voice away,
And cursed the hour his song begins.
But when the night returns without it,
I beg he starts again."

 

- Sanitè

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