Writes..."Sonnets 151-155"

sonnet 151

“i saw a woman i’d known as a girl;
i had feelings for but she never knew…
see, she liked dudes; that’s a “s” as in plural;
dudes with a “s”, as in more than a few;
dudes, as in she was always in a crowd,
and i wasn’t one around she could see…
i wasn’t a guy socially endowed,
but with a pen, no one could fuck with me…
so i wrote her letters, and signed “’j’adore”;
placing them in her locker every day…
intimate thoughts, using words meaning more,
though i knew she didn’t feel the same way;
but knowing she would read the things i wrote,
someone’s heart spilled out for her in a note…”

sonnet 152

“i ask myself if i’ve ever really,
allowed anyone to love me before?
and if you start to think that thought’s silly;
ponder what the word involves at its core…
communication; a little sharing;
but i’ve not been one to let people in…
even when their aim is simply caring,
for the person that i am or have been…
can someone be loved when they don’t disclose,
things that cause them tension or stress in life?
good question; i don’t know but i suppose,
it’s asking much of a girlfriend or wife;
to love me while trying to read my mind;
unable to learn what there is to find…”

sonnet 153

“it took ten days for us to fall in love;
i have the letter you gave me as proof,
a note showing me you were conscious of,
something we’d both already deemed as truth…
in that we hadn’t fallen how most do;
we tumbled long before we even met…
as if you and i previously knew,
though we hadn’t experienced love yet,
that we were supposed to be together…
some call that belief destiny or fate…
whatever the force is that does tether,
us; surely causes one to speculate;
just what made you and i certain we’d be,
prior to an introduction of “we”…”

sonnet 154

“my pen’s on the page, i’ve nothing to write;
i think i’ve finally run out of lines…
words escape me but another’s aren’t right;
to let her know i feel that she defines,
beauty; but more than a beautiful face;
her splendor truly comes from the inside…
she’s a woman of elegance and grace,
and neither quality can be denied,
or rebuffed, by any she’s ever met…
each surpassed only by how much she cares,
compassion you don’t easily forget,
i would describe it but nothing compares…
the most vital thing i wish to impart,
is she’s lovely ‘cause of her loving heart…”

sonnet 155

“i imagine she’ll be wearing a dress;
some material that hugs her every curve…
black; in a black corner’s where i address,
her after having built up enough nerve…
with no liquid courage ‘cause i don’t drink;
but i’ll offer to buy the girl her next…
her back’s to me, and i can see her ink:
my favorite author’s name in cursive text…
plus, there’s a quill; one stylishly designed;
in the area of a shoulder blade…
and thoughts about both symbols will remind;
that i’m the reason they’re being displayed…
then she’ll turn her head in order to say,
“i knew that you’d return to me one day”…”

"155 sonnets done. fin?"