A new sonnet.

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The air is warm with your sweat flowers

cursing casually innocent with a smile

moist lips say does it feel wrong or true

through this guilt, I feel empty and reviled

 

there is a causality, the fragrance

wet soil, a flower rests in spring rain

will it be chaos or repentance

will we choose pleasure or live in pain

 

the tension in my hand's heavy breathing

your eyes and words consent to this prelude

seeming pleased with what your inspiring

your life inspires though I'm confused

 

I wish I could love you platonically

yet this prelude scares me peacefully.

 

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