I think I'll write a sonnet just for you
But I don't know what I should make it say.
I want to write down what I feel is true,
But twixt these blue lines mere nuances play.
I'd like to tell you how it is I feel
With slyly crafted words and rhyming lines,
But I know not if you or I could deal
With what your presence sparks inside my mind.
So now I'll leave my sonnet hanging thus -
It's one a.m. and I should be asleep.
It's sad your poem made me so jealous;
I'm afraid mine will never be that deep.
Of deep things I at least can tell you this:
Don't change yourself to be someone's mistress.