Lost Love (Sonnet)

You offered me hemlock, I took as honey.

Told a tale of truth, which was lie.

I give thee sea of love,you back me gutter of fie.

You became irony, when I had no money.

Thine phrase is my symphony, idiom is harmony.

As soon as hi, I wanna bind with your tie.

Lay my head, on your lap, when I die.

Bet thorny Rose, stoney rock for your beauty.

Let liberate you on this sunny November.

I neither claim you nor remember.

Thine glow becomes shadow, exists become thought.

Ye is bright, on my sight; I lost the fight.

Peeper lost right to see you, soul lost to feel you.

Slumber lost to dream you, Olfactory lost to smell you.

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