I have had enough of these miserable hours
I ask that you will end my misery at her feet,
so, at last she knows I was true.
Interminable hours have gone since I met you
unaware of the gift your brought at my door
one that grew while I remained naïve of its reach.
What more may I require in this age when
the years had swiftly vanished and I remain
standing beside you, invisible, almost unknown.
Now, I ask that you take this shiny blade and
drive it through my chest until I sigh once more
resting a weary heart in your hands for comfort.
Not sure of the way to express my desire
for you, I am merely hoping to sleep and
at last be given the dream of you for all time.
Fabrice Poussin
Saragun Springs 
Fabrice
Ah the big price for love. To beg for destruction by the object of affection is something artificial intelligence will never reach. I would sure like to hear someone explain the equations.
Another fine poem.
Leila
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“These hours of longing,” reminds me of “Killing Me Softly,” by R. Flack. There is a strong emotion that kind of stops you and you can feel it in this poem. Strong writing!
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Fabrice
Leila is right. Humans are capable of feeling this intensely; and AI can’t feel a damn thing – not a thing – at all.
That gives us a leg up on “It” or, at the very least, it makes us human while It is not human (and IS Inhuman). (We would all do well to remember this.)
One thing poetry is desperately needed for now is to remind us all that WE ARE STILL HUMAN in an inhuman, machine-dominated world. (All AI is is a fancy machine.) Your work accomplishes that very-much-needed task with authenticity. You’re not afraid to write about intense emotion and it gives your work credibility in a world of parched souls.
Dale
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