Beyond The Glass

Sonnets of a bad poet

Clink, clink, this kind of art's a tease,

Smoking fire while you jump with ease.

You whispered, "I might be good in a rhyme,"

Rushing with cruel cute desire, 

Calling me a charming liar, 

Losing control of sonnets, stoking the fire.

It isn't very clear, but your deep voice could save the night,

Say when, and I'll play again, igniting delight.

Getting involved in the thoughts of a bad poet,

Writing some angelic poems and smoke on a shirt, 

If I'm all dressed, you will be on the boat, 

They might look at us and say an angel fell for a demon, 

The black nights were after midnight, 

An explanation with visual pictures of the mouth, 

Received some sort of feeling on my bags, 

Sympathy is a knife like your lyrical poems beneath my hands

You broke my desire beautifully, 

Thinking of your bad sides, it's a joke, you see.

Bad sonnets felt as good prevented dose, with hands-on flush, 

I would like your verses with some rush, 

 Crave your verses, let's ignite the hush.