Trust Me Baby This Is Love

If this is not love, then what would it be Since the past days, I am lost in a haze My mood, dreamy and my senses foamy Why, none would be able to put out this blaze None except the muse of this sonnet The muse, chosen by the skies on purpose Chosen to help me entangle from life's net Chosen to hold my frail hand as life flows The muse I trust will take care of my plight The muse who shall calm my growling monster With the aura emanating from his sight And with his warmth as his awakener Since these past days, I remain on pink clouds Hoping not to fall back down on glass shards!