Oh, I think I've figured it out:  I'm so bouncy and smiley simply because I am chronically depressed.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCLXXV)


Oh yes, please text me that "it's love's detail"
And promise marriage ere we've talked fr'intents
But hours, to ask how I earn money hence,
Whileas ye ditch me cuz I don't in pale
Excuse have sure employment, and t'avail
That's what I've feared:  love false, as each want cents
When they quip "****."  And I knew't.  Good sense.
True love, shan't care for her purse:  love is bail.
I stoop low for the purple violets, stir
Twixt taller grasses that wee morsel's cue
Of deepest sorrow:  cuz I am as twere
Myself a violet, lost and trodden through
The years, and full of grief, yet smiling too,
For that's our lot.  Ai!  Is love always poor?!

24May18b

I hide under my bed
To escape the demons in my head
I hide under my bed
Where the violets are sunburnt
And the roses are red
I wish I could say that I love you with my entire brain and heart
But the truth is I only love you when you're smiling
Because your smile is a work of art
And when you frown it's like God cried out
Cried out to say that the world is not okay
And honestly the world hasn't been okay
And you haven't been smiling lately
But a few hours ago when I made you laugh with my stupid joke
That brightened up my entire world
And made me realize I think I'm in love with this girl
I got flowers from my garden for you
And I wrote a cheesy poem

It goes like:
Roses are red
Violets are of a bluish hue
These flowers are going to die in a couple of days because they will not receive water or care
But I assure you that I'm going to take care of you and love you with the passion of a thousand suns
Because if I loved you any less I don't think I could love at all

You made me get out from under the bed because you are on top of it and you wanted to talk to me
You said I love you
And I saw that your lips were red.

Roses are red
As red as the open wound that bleeds
Violets are blue
As blue as the bruises on my beaten heart
Sugar is sweet
As sweet as your smile turned bitter after goodbyes
And so are you
Full of sugary sweetness, rotten teeth, and stomach aches.

...'non'd solace broken me, no lover 'round to give a hoot.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMXIII)


Me.  Say t'invoke the violets' wonted tale
As if twould be what my soul'd cherish hence
To vaunted heights, aye breathless for intents
Could I but revel in that auld detail
Whose white and purple-striped wee faces' scale
Of sorrow drew me ere I could from thence
Acknowledge th'import's by all counts pretense.
Yea, trounce my songs, and whither to avail?
Should I don overshoes and search as twere
The forest's muddy trails like pilgrims who
Own heavn on earth, we'll call it far too poor.
My sonnets three years 'go belie what'd woo,
Cuz I ****** all joys where Death 'gan to tour,
And wrote to whom is not, that:  I need you.

14Mar18b

...that is invisible.



(sonnet #MMMMMMXII)


So...we'll feign's not sae bitter as snow thence
Is gone with yesterday and skies t'avail
Are softly blue, like April waltzes, hale
Green nubbins of both tulips and ah hence
What Wordsworth knew as jonquils was't? now fence
These warmly golden hours with hopes' detail.
For daffodils' bright yellow shall soon hail
Again and purple violets wink fr'intents.
I do not long for summer's heat girls stir
Blog posts and comment for, because they do.
Yet O!  to wander in the shadows fer
Sweet ****** white-and-purple violets dew
Half lingers on in silver droplets were
What I could gasp to own 'til I see You.

14Mar13a

The first footsteps were quiet, love
Like the whispered touch of snow upon the ground.
The day was gray, but the colors true.
It’s a shame that the violets never bloomed.

[Sonnet #107 to SouthHampton:  "...thy monument/When tyrents' crests and tombs of brass are spent./"]




(sonnet #MMMMMMCMXIX)


What **!  Write of the violets like t'avail
My soul of cherished hours gone far, far hence
Upon the crueler rending of joys thence,
And Life's dear fabric as it were, and pale
As aught excuse, read Shakespeare--in betrayl
Wisked off, as how those lines rouse for intents
Sweet minutes lingring oer the violets, whence
I lisped "...and Death to me subscribes--"(sans bail).
Lo, I can see all now as twas (in poor
'Scuse, eh?):  blue skies sae warm, and silver dew
Just melted off the shadowed clover, fer
Those minutes I bent down and mused, while too
Thus fingring purple dainties winds would stir
Across sans kissing...and why now anew?

01Feb18c