I wrote a modern style Shakespearinan sonnet....

Jane Austen/Semper Fi

Can feel my hand trying to move of its own will,

Like a truck with the parking break left off-

I want to know the feel of your fingers against my hand, is that overkill?

I’m sure any “us” that there is, is one I’ve imagined- You’re not exactly soft.

The heart is a muscle, not a bone-

So technically, it can’t break.

At least, that’s what I tell myself when you stop answering the phone.

I tell myself I’ll move on, but I know it’s a promise I’ll never make.

I wonder if this is how Jane Austen felt, watching the love of her life leave?

We’re in front of my house, and you hug me goodbye.

I try, I swear I do, to push memories of you out of the sieve that’s my mind.

You’re gone, and I look down at the door mat, mocking me with “Semper Fi”

Please, just go and let me take a long rest

Go back and find myself, I’m sure it’s for the best.