sonnet 11
““i think i love you”; only love can make…
a rational thinker irrational…
she told me not to those words lightly take…
“never”, i said, ‘fore any tears can fall…
she’s “scared of this thing we have going on”…
afraid “because it’s innocent and pure”…
we’re hesitant from having knowing one…
or two failed when we’d felt we’d been so sure…
“i know deep down we both want to taint it”…
and she’s right, what we have is worth risking…
to let our hearts become more acquainted…
and allow ourselves a chance at this thing…
her question was: “where do we go from here?”
hopefully a place where love conquers fear…”
sonnet 12
“last time i saw her she knew how i felt…
already penned a thousand words of love…
they’re the kind that make a woman’s heart melt…
they’re the kind that seem sent down from above…
could it be i’m too proud of my own words;
and they’re not as compelling as i think?
she’d asked if i liked the language of nerds;
duh…who else wants “quixotic” as his ink?
i don’t get girls from a genius i.q.…
yet compulsion tells me it’s my duty…
i’m a poet, i do what poets do…
turn thoughts about a girl into beauty…
then use that beauty as a note written…
to show that her essence has me smitten…”
sonnet 13
“we’d spent months talking ‘bout a life for us…
from the summer heat to the winter snow…
how we evolved from like to love to lust…
since when we were younger we didn’t know…
that there had been mutual attraction…
stealing peeks while the other looked away…
with very limited interaction…
we thought the feelings that we didn’t say…
it took years for us to accept the truth…
and admit that we’d messed up long before…
during that time our words were clearly proof…
she and i felt we were destined for more…
june to december; six months of a year…
then to forever; i'll hold our time dear…”
sonnet 14
“the truth is i find freckles attractive…
i don’t know why, i really can’t explain…
but things inside of me ‘come reactive…
certainly driving parts of me insane…
topless before me, she show me the dots…
on her face, her shoulders, front and her back…
tells me she has more in intimate spots…
teasing me, stepping out of panties black…
her body’s like space, i’m mapping out stars…
constellations stand out as i scan it…
the ones on her chest, ‘tween venus and mars…
make my fave place a little blue planet…
with another i like light years away…
where freckles line a path along the way…”
sonnet 15
“an invisible man, i’m never seen…
women pass me like i’m not even there…
appears this power’s the dominant gene…
ghost form’s the recessive one of the pair…
wait, i was redundant with the last line…
i guess i want to make sure my point’s made…
when he’s ignored can a man still be fine?
thoughts of a philosopher i’m afraid…
what should a man do to get them to see;
continue to voice words nobody hears?
“one looking for love is looking for me”…
i’ve already been saying that for years…
what should a man do who actually tries;
to truly be seen in a woman’s eyes?”
sonnet 16
“because i’m cocky ‘bout the things i do…
i’ve been called arrogant, brash, conceited…
words people use for “i’m better than you”…
forever winning; can’t be defeated…
never let the critics change who i am…
when it comes to a thought, i pen the best…
some may disagree, i don’t give a damn…
i’ll put what i write against all the rest…
here’s what i say when one wants to compare…
something i’ve written to something they wrote…
“having determined that life isn’t fair,
take the pen you used, stick it in your throat;
and bleed yourself out to a certain death…
professing my brilliance with your last breath”…”
sonnet 17
“my son met life on a saturday morn…
being the whole of two halves of our love…
“a baby genius”; before he was born…
was what she called him the times we’d thought of…
what a child created from us might be…
the best of what we each had to offer…
if he’d get his brains from a brilliant me…
he’d get his looks from a beautiful her…
the result of what is when something’s right…
when a man and woman truly connect…
during the course of a passionate night…
loving one another had been perfect…
and now that he’s here, it really does seem…
our son had been the most wonderful dream…”
sonnet 18
“i love a woman that doesn’t trust me…
bad ones from my past had changed who i was…
thinking that being a player must be…
exactly what it is a real man does…
so i bagged a few while i was shopping…
with looks, charm, a little friendly banter…
but now for a woman i am stopping…
it is a wish i will gladly grant her…
to lose her won’t be a chance that i took…
i’m sick of games; i tell her i’m ready…
prove that point by ripping up my black book…
make old numbers rain down like confetti…
maybe she’ll see this as convincing proof…
me saying that i love her is the truth…”
sonnet 19
“having sought it, i’ve found the truth to be…
nothing’s as inevitable as hell…
for ones surrounded by darkness like me…
don’t need any revelations to tell…
when people mistake the devil’s facade…
they see horns, a tail; a satyr-like beast…
but satan had been an angel of god…
and that only changed when his pride increased…
guess my point is every deadly sin has…
ways of revealing one’s true self of them…
i look at myself in reflective glass…
the mirror casts back an image of him…
as certain as the flowers in spring bloom…
i’ll burn one day for the things that consume…”
sonnet 20
“there’s a picture of her in a black dress…
i fall in love every time i view it…
satin in places, in others much less…
fabric’s so tight, her gown’s almost too fit…
spaghetti straps, though one’s off the shoulder…
exposing cleavage; a plunging neckline…
her dress screams she wishes i could hold her…
and that in my arms she’d tell me she’s mine…
though i wasn’t there when it was taken…
i still imagine she knew that i’d see…
that look in her eyes can’t be mistaken…
they burn with desire; passion for me…
sometimes it takes a black dress in order…
to draw one that’s away back toward her…”
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