With cunning love, you inspire me to write
How I hate the way you invade my mind,
Wandering endlessly both day and night
Always dreaming of your deep, azure eyes.
Let me compare you to a blizzard storm:
Heaping adorations tossed from the sky,
Flurries of affection define your terms
Melting away when winter’s times passed by.
A constant shower of flowers, and notes,
Confessions of love, more flattery still,
Of undying passion— for me— you gloat
Disappears when the prize is moved uphill.
Although you wrote me nine hundred sonnets,
’Twas not me you loved, but writing sonnets