3 Dimensional Interactive Movies

sonnet #1,611

I'll slump across this honeymoon bedspread,
You curled across a white throw hidden couch,
You glumly silent, something I should grouch,
Think, how and why love has now quickly fled?
I might've seen it mapping out ahead,
I did ask round, and swot up, being no slouch,
Expected pain engaged, a muted ouch,
Those quirks of habit waived by newlywed.
I work a wedding ring, merely metal,
You look a pile of atoms trapped by germs,
Ponder past hand presses centripetal,
Assess the warm hugs, quiver woozy squirms.
You mete a metaphysical blue spark,
From ring to ring, yards cold if on the mark.

(Chorus)

o spark
o flare
o twinkle