sonnet 21.11.13.

The door to your heart yawned ajar a crack
It bode me bashful briefly bruised Id heal
My previous boys fists swung a decent smack
Your bossiness just best fit my ideal
The worst you do is stiffly slap my back
You punch your palm a threat I take unreal
I backhand compliment the wisest whack
If furious frustrated you filter what I feel
Ive squared you off you soar as if a kite
Im glad of booty checks at my command
You smoulder inward outward understand
The war is waged in public weighted trite
The next boy will be less a loser cast
I walk a path to peace Ive dropped the past
Chorus cast formed shaped