The times I ask that which I want I dare
Yes youll see me as clingy coy and meek
Why weve worked through things as your eyes peek
I mumble near your leaning easy ear
I want much much more I want you more near
I could irk cheeky dancing cheek to cheek
Our hugs and handholds need a fine tune tweak
I want less only girl pals cheer and jeer
At first it was a war of wooden swords
The flirting stranger who last comprehends
A flabby practise wiggle room accords
Perhaps I fuss a fine thing till it ends
Id rather whine the whip snap skin thick welt
Than bleed out quiet acutest cut unfelt
Chorus welt lump swelling
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
sonnet The times I ask
