a study toward sonnet #227 by FisherKingKQJ
Your dry, demure, and quickly blinking eyes-
They tell me everything your lips do not,
That I've been such an idiot in surmise-
I've tallied something nought, and small a lot.
My terms and conditions were so much rot,
But I'd be solipsistic to withdraw;
I'm trapped, and my stomach is in a knot-
My goofy ways must have stuck in your craw!
The reckless outburst was a schisting flaw
So teasing you to depart, you did leave
And bittersweet irony tempered law-
With a gentle nod please prompt my reprieve.
My darling, dare I speak now of we two?
Your patience with me is only too true.
Your patience with me is only too true.
Your patience with me is only too candid.
Your patience with me is only too honest.