Fiat Amor

I want like sonnets beckon a love so true as fiction investments deep in true reflection emotional direction I will that she will for me as though we together share in love a simple passive harmony. I am a mess of things of jumbled thoughts and misdirection an honest soul with no momentum stunned in the face of the universe and she would love away the emptiness bring to life the subtle verse of dead poets in lively reenactment like her to me is my Sonnet 29 and in her presence I smolder with the intensity of her admiration and I in bed entwined by wrist and hip feel so baked by summer's loving sun her warming smile, and tracing fingertips in midday slip to comfort's siren call and nap away the day in lull with her and feel complete. What a beautiful mess we'd make all skin tones and white sheets so beautiful would we that the dust from my dim room caught mid-flight in sunlight's glint would seem to sparkle more in your presence than the many days it spends in the solitude of my lacking company. But be damned if fables ever see the light of day today in any sense, and die all the fairy-tales and old love true and bold smothered by their consequence the world is lost and gone without the sounding of a requiem for dreams now dead and absent.