A new sonnet.
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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