sonnet 1
"i stopped dreaming about a perfect love...
imperfect men deem such exploits a waste...
and i stopped praying for strength from above...
to endure life without having a taste...
i try not to think 'bout times in the past...
when "she" and i and love had made a three...
foolishly wistful that it didn't last...
an ever after we'd live happily...
i don't long for past experiences...
with someone i've loved, though i'd loved them well...
my thinking's more towards other tenses...
presently avoiding a future hell...
alive, yet when does living truly start...
only when lovers share a loving heart..."
sonnet 2
"she dreamed of love at times she dreamed of me...
when she closed her eyes it was my face shown...
she'd deemed being my heart what life should be...
feelings of passion that she'd never known...
only dreamed of love when i dreamed of her...
she's the vision that i'd seen in my head...
i wish we had been better than we were...
when an "us" had involved others instead...
we dreamed of love when we dreamed about us...
a man wanting a woman wanting him...
my desire for her equaled her lust...
an intimacy that'd eluded them...
we've stopped dreaming now; i'm holding her hand...
living's for lovers loving all they can..."
sonnet 3
"how do you write of one you've never kissed...
not having done it, aren't they merely lines...
what does one pen when you've never pressed lips...
in terms of love, what actually defines...
a word as you commit one to an ode...
for someone worthy of more than a few...
how do you say that you've wanted to hold...
a girl you've wanted to be closer to...
you start by taking feelings from your heart...
and letting emotions flow on a page...
i think that constitutes a decent start...
because i use revealing prose to gauge...
her interest in something i've never said...
since i've never shared the things in my head..."
sonnet 4
"i told her i loved her and she took off...
leaving me and my words in wintry air...
a chilling breeze brings with it sickly cough...
that and heartache are a punishing pair...
it always seems like my words ring hollow...
having been spilled from my heart to her ears...
i wonder why her footsteps won't follow...
a path that leads to where my love appears...
i stand alone with a heart left broken...
with nothing to do to change how things are...
'cause she's scared of a promise i've spoken...
from me, she's let that fear take her afar...
but i love her so i'll be here waiting...
writing the thoughts my heart has been stating..."
sonnet 5
“stand before a mirror, what do i see?
an image of what: good fortune or health?
no, she’s gone; i’m missing a part of me…
yes, she’s gone; i’m but a shell of myself…
yesterday’s a past when she’d been my heart…
a time i loved her despite not knowing…
there’s pain in loving her when we’re apart…
and heartache when emotion’s not showing…
tomorrow’s a future that now seems lost…
as i wonder just why she’s gone away…
why she’s still searching when our paths have crossed?
to keep running when i wished that she’d stay…
stand before a mirror, i’m here alone…
reflecting on reflections of my own…”
sonnet 6
“girls got me thinking: “become more shifty”…
fucking with oysters without any pearls…
as for life mantras, i’ll invert 50’s…
it’s paid before laid when dealing with girls…
i’ve penned pretty words to get them to see…
yet i’ve found they prefer i show no class…
don’t nice guys strive to make nice girls happy?
‘cause assholes write shit like they’re after ass…
always been a chaser; a “bud light”, er…
look at that line i’m defaming myself…
bastards write asshole rhymes ‘cause they’re tighter…
i’m writing a sonnet; this line’s the twelfth…
oops, i meant to say i’m after ass too…
when i pen hot shit i’m looking to screw…”
sonnet 7
"drake wrote line 'bout the best he's ever had...
i can't do the same with the truth being...
i'll never know since we were never bad…
if eyes would deem me in her worth seeing…
i’d never advanced past holding her hand…
just once, i’d had her alone by my side…
even i find it hard to understand…
loving despite not having been inside…
i write lines ‘bout the girl i never got…
the girl of my dreams; one that got away…
how can someone be the best when i’ve not?
bedded that someone; or caused her to say?
i’m the best, having seen with her own eyes…
that nobody’s better between her thighs…”
sonnet 8
“on bended knee i promised her my life...
everything i am, everything i'd be...
genuflected; i want her as my wife…
she contemplated, looking down at me…
her tears became a stream that wet a face…
of one i professed love for long ago…
a different time, a different place…
when my heart’d made mistakes my life did show…
i told her then that i’d love her better…
than any before; she believed it ought…
i loved her before any penned letter…
she loved me before any spoken thought…
then promised herself to me in a word…
more tears, then a “yes”, was all that i heard…”
sonnet 9
“sometimes i wonder if love is a sin;
well, not love, as much me as loving her
i ask myself where does evil begin,
if it comes from denying what we were,
or what we should be; this life or the next
is that what deems our hearts guilty of bad?
to convey how we feel only through text…
yet save thoughts one day we’ll pray we still had
some list seven deadly; i’ve found an eighth,
fear’s why we won’t stand, afraid that we’ll fall
we live in our minds to keep our hearts safe;
but isn’t that the greatest sin of all?
hell’s living with words we never enact,
not taking a chance so hearts stay intact”
sonnet 10
“i grasp her hand as we enter the room…
a journey we’ve never taken before…
she’s a vision my eyes seek to consume…
they devour her as i close the door…
night is dark; she offers herself to me…
sliding down the straps of her satin bra…
they drape off her shoulders, a sight to see…
revealing perfect breasts that deserve awe…
with erect nipples excited from lust…
desire’s apparent; a stream of wet…
begins to flow from a place that i just…
whispered to her my touch wouldn’t forget…
fingers roam, her body pressed against mine…
when a mortal meets an angel divine…”
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