sonnet 121
“the sad thing is i don’t feel bonded to,
or linked to, anyone; there’s disconnect…
between myself and all the people who,
belive us united; as they reflect…
i know different, there’s no refuting,
the fact that i’ve never felt more lonely…
who i am and what i want: disputing;
i find that to be my one and only,
way of thinking; being my life these days…
i merely exist amongst the shadows,
and wonder if this dark is but a phase;
knowing the truth is that nobody knows…
the purest black inhabits a lone soul,
one; in solitude; wishing it was whole…”
sonnet 122
“only took three days to get her to fall,
the fourth day was spent getting to her feet…
she’s now in love with everything and all,
i’ve said or done the she’s determined sweet…
which has been a lot; in a little time;
or maybe she likes the feeling it brings;
but she’s not in love with me because i’m,
just an asshole who does these kind of things…
but i can’t help it, it’s just who i be:
a romantic; romantically-charged…
and if she desires a better me,
she’ll mean to find one with his heart enlarged;
with his ego reduced; such a contrast;
in order to make that her feelings last…”
sonnet 123
“but i’m not jealous ‘cause of what he’s got,
even though he has the one thing i don’t…
they can say in’m envious, but i’m not;
they may want me to claim it, but i won’t…
it’s an understatement: a jealous me…
so i’ve determined the word just doesn’t apply…
i use brown eyes, green, in order to see,
i’ll keep an emerald-tint ‘til i die…
but it isn’t that he’s got her right now;
it’s that they’re more connected that we are,
or were; it’s that i can’t figure out how,
she without me’s not made a jealous her;
us not what we’ve been’s not drawn her ire,
‘specially when this comsumes me like fire…”
sonnet 124
“my heart inspires words of true romance,
in everything i write depicting love…
what i pen tends to take a passionate stance;
for all of those i have tender thoughts of…
but i’m afraid now my thoughts are of you,
and what i may write about how i feel;
i find myself unsure of what to do;
only sure that the feelings i have are real,
and true; with emotions that show i dote…
there’s a fear in knowing they inundate…
what would happen if i choose to devote,
a line to you to diminish their weight?
or a few lines more; will they prove to be,
the definition of relief for me?”
sonnet 125
“i’ve found a certain thing to be true…
only recently discovered by me…
in life when you’re given a chance to do;
do that thing and do it passionately…
once upon a time a girl at my side,
had moved in closer prepared to be kissed…
but it was too soon, my brain did decide,
thus, an opportuntity that was missed…
“there’ll be a time”, had been my notion;
“we’ll share a moment exactly the same”
we’ve not; we’ve lost the feeling, emotion…
for that i only have myself to blame…
and so i’ve learned not to deny an act;
my thoughts of loss have a greater impact…”
sonnet 126
“i just came across a hand-written note…
that was sent to me a long time ago…
every word in it: a passionate quote…
the subject: the things she felt i should know…
in the first line penned she professed her love,
‘cause the feelings between us did tether…
in the next, she expressed what she thought of;
a future of she and i together…
the last line ended with “…love you always”;
that had been something she tended to write…
it was something believed in prior days;
when we felt loving each other was right…
now, they’re just lines from a dusty letter;
a distant past when we had been better…”
sonnet 127
“i write about love ‘cause i believe in it…
even at times love hasn’t been in me…
thus, sometimes i feel i’m a hypocrite…
for being less truthful than i should be…
i often think love’s abandoned my heart;
still i pen that it is my constant guide…
this day, despite knowing it did depart;
despite sensing an emptiness inside…
maybe i should scribe that i’ve got no right,
to offer the world new lines about love…
so there won’t be insincere words to cite,
for those, to those, they have loving thoughts of;
and then use both hands; as if to applaud…
i retire my hand; i’ve been a fraud…”
sonnet 128
“it’s while thinking of us sharing some time,
i notice the sweat forming on my palm…
i precipitate; but only when i’m…
nervous, though i try to display a calm;
but i’m failing, as i can clearly see,
in the beads now dripping from my forehead…
rarely have i been a more anxious me,
when i’m normally confident instead…
it’s the thought of finally holding you,
close enough to feel your heart beat with mine…
has become an idea that threatens to,
surpass the beauty of any penned line…
i’ve written about it and those words failed;
i assume in comparison they paled…”
sonnet 129
“this life is fleeting, or so i’ve been told;
though that was a message i didn’t need…
i plan on dying before i get old,
preferably without having to bleed…
i’ll meet my end with a head full of black;
dead; with the carpet matching the drapes…
from something bad: a stroke, a heart attack,
hopefully sleep, as my last breath escapes…
or i could die as earlier stated:
“fatal orgasm while being inside”…
to find in her, having penetrated,
my own heaven when both legs are spread wide…
knowing i’m dying a little each day;
i need a woman soon to pass that way…”
sonnet 130
“i don’t wish when i gaze upon a star,
though there is something that i desire…
it’s merely wanting to know where you are,
and what getting you here would require…
‘cause there isn’t anything i wouldn’t do…
to have you where i am this lonely night…
since staring at stars ‘stead of loving you,
has been deemed an inevitable plight…
despite shining with a certain magic,
there lies an air of misfortune ‘round each…
thus, i perceive evenings to be tragic;
they’re times your hand isn’t within my reach…
so no i don’t wish, and simply because,
wishes can’t grant a love that never was…”
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