sonnet Just she decides direction

Just she decides direction left or right
I say yes she thinks through that not as neat
And picks a hitherto unsought side street
Im sick of love and her and pure delight
As shes so saccharine sweet shy of bite
I crave her kisses hot shot sure and fleet
I sweat and seek her out I beg then bleat
I loathe myself addicted captive quite
Cocoon or coma caught I catch a gasp
And blinks are certain signs two yes one no
Her fibs and white lies lavishly lay low
Our fingers still enfolded strengthen clasp
In waking next I dodge deaths swinging scythe
She lies a living statue whilst I writhe
Chorus scythe faux zeis