O that you were your self
O that you were your self, but love you are
No longer yours, than you your self here live,
Against this coming end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give.
So should that beauty which you hold in lease
Find no determination, then you were
Your self again after your self's decease,
When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Which husbandry in honour might uphold,
Against the stormy gusts of winter's day
And barren rage of death's eternal cold?
O none but unthrifts, dear my love you know,
You had a father, let your son say so.
This sonnet in particular says something that has been burried deep within my heart from years and years and now almost about to hit a decade, till date probably the most suitable and subtle words that I've been able to find to say what I mean, yet again I know this is a hard one to interpret, but never did I say that life is easy......
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