sonnets on love

i.

we laid there, mordibly, aware of nothing but each other's breath,
until the darkness came over us, attempting to extinguish our flame.
we stood, or should i say sat to be more precise, strong,
not letting it affect our final act;
a great ending to a night so chilling that even death,
wouldn't be able to corrupt our love; our game.
each second spent with her is like a year long,
and thus my perception of time is twisted, fact.
the moisture of her physical nest of deception,
is heart-warming and electrifying, mainly for her dwelling,
is filled with only the sweetest juices of desired appreciation,
and for, as already stated, she is the closest thing to perfection.
no deception flees her mouth, ever, so i am gaily telling,
anyone who asks that i love her; a royal sensation.

ii.

for reasons unknown, yet so patent, i love her.
there is no denying that her scent keeps me interested,
but there is also her physical; eyes so lucid, lips so sweet,
and a body so caressable, and her mental; an uncorrupted mind,
a soul so poetic, and the aura of her shyness above her,
all which amount to my love for her, a love in which i invested,
so much of my twisted time, and a love which bruised my feet,
by making me wander for miles trying to find,
enough courage to finally step up to the task,
of confessing my inner nature of addiction,
whilst staring into her eyes; portals of such existential divinity.
the hesitation almost triumphed, but in the end i did ask,
and soon everything bloomed right out of my prediction,
slowly escaping into the sunset, hoping to reach infinity.

iii.

a sudden movement, isolated and paranormal, can be detected,
when the only music playing is an orchestra of silence.
together, we form such a beautiful musical harmony, but only together.
we resonate with each other's frequencies and compliment the silence evoked,
eliminating any feels of awkwardness which could have bisected,
that which gave birth to this magnificent relationship without violence;
a relationship based on a flame that burns forever.
although so hypnotizing, this rhythmic silence provoked,
me to speak out and break the spell,
only to build on something already present;
a drunk infiltration of emotions.
rehearsed for an eternity, the real trial went well,
putting a smile on my face and teaching me a lesson;
my love for her goes deeper than the added depths of all oceans.

iv.

i write so calmly to soothe my soul, to ease this pain,
to calm the storm inside my mind, to end this suffering,
to express the depths of my love, to show her bliss,
to wake mere cattle up from a dream so unambiguous,
but most importantly, i write to become like the rain,
falling down on everyone, every single individual, offering,
them a poetic moisture equivalent to that of a sweet midnight kiss.
a kiss so delicate between two persons contiguous.
the words i write fill blank pages with far more meaning,
than anyone could ever grasp, for each noun is chosen carefully,
each adjective is picked with a purpose, and each verb is planted to perfectly describe,
every event taking place around me. furthermore, for me, writing is a way of cleaning,
and cleansing my mind of thoughts that keep scaring me;
thoughts that don't belong in my artistic tribe.

v.

the sweetness of the balloon drips on my chest,
implying something extra-terrestrial; a feeling of great admiration.
i developed a new obsession for triangular isolation,
an obsession which makes balloons float.
the isolation is eerie as it doesn't alienate me from the rest,
instead, it pulls me closer to her; a triangular dedication.
its strange, absorbing nature aids in communication,
and reinforces many things which i wrote.
the past few sessions, inspired by a queen,
have pushed me in a direction i never knew existed.
i am so thankful for this great discovery,
for it made me see things i have never seen,
and for it made me realise that i love her, for reasons listed.
forever; the answer to how long she will be loving me.

©Korba