I love you
I mean, I love the thought of you
The idea of you
The look of you
You

I'm not, in love with you
Not for now
Not yet,
But I want to mumble it under my breath
It just wants to slip through my lips
To fly out
Because,
You mesmerize me
And give me butterflies
And I love you
I really do.

Smile, and my heart just flutter
Taken aback, I frown unknowingly
"It could be for anyone", I said
But it would be nice
If that smile's for me
Smile, and sometimes my brain dies
Uncontrolled blood flow to my face
My stomach just dances at the thought
My palms and face sweat furiously
I might just blow up right here right now
Smile, and it would be enough
I'll watch from a safe place
Out of your own world
Where you and I can't get hurt

Alas, is there truly no excuse for me?


(sonnet #MMMMMMCMXVIII)


Take icy cloth's embroidered linen's sense
Of April's warmth to task for darts, as hale
Pink butterflies weave paths to yonder's bail,
And what is stylish now is red, deep hence
With snappy blue in patterns I've tossed thence
Aside as "not my taste," and oh! t'avail
How Valentines' tricks out most ads' detail
With hearts in tow, where I've none in defense.
Remember how our heavy kissing's tour
Of things I'd never tasted, left me too
Far Dis-illusioned in betrayl, as poor
As all that, and I miss the violets dew
In silver droplets used to kiss as twere.
So flowrs are knit on linen while none woo.

01Feb18b

...like, "if you must remain nobly a ****** unto death in lieu of marrying divorced or ungodly men, buck up and be thankful." or something like that.  


(sonnet #MMMMMMCMVI)


If butterflies were dancing gaily hence
Across these wastes, likeas in sheer betrayl
Pink 'non embroidered ones do whilst flutes scale
Soft notes and trip too merr'ly for intents
Now through the minutes I work pinning thence
An ancient zipper to this skirt, we'd hail
Sweet joy no, aye?  But thin white clouds 'gain veil
Blue skies til shadows' ghosts fade, and's pretense.
Did I complain too much ere, that as twere
I'm punished with ne best friend?  No man'd woo
Affections then, but he was toying in poor
Excuse with me, or was divorced.  None do
Ha, ha now either, flutes in lieu what stir
Fond visions as I bend oer sewing's cue.

25Jan18b