Sonnet 11.

I love with madness and compelling rage:
With eyes so wild and fierce that caught you whole,
With ebbs and flows, flowing in your ribcage,
With lips ardent, they will sear through your soul.
It’s not about the things that eyes could see,
For all your inner grace are what is true;
And no matter how stunning you could be,
My only love is what sings beneath you.
Because the blood that’s coursing in your veins,
The constant numbness within your fingers,
And the beating your ruptured heart contains,
Are where your loveliness calmly lingers.
            Believe me when I say that you’re my muse,
            For you’ve coloured my world with thousand hues!




I just want to steal the roses off your lips,
And place them to your ear,
So that you might stop and listen to your own blooming,
For you are divinely beautiful
Beneath every streaking, purple night-skies,
Filled with dreams and dazzling constellations.


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