Sonnet 1; Mind of Contortion

Sorceress of beauty,

Shimmering brilliance of the soul,

Sadness must ensue the failed pursuit of love; his duty,

He gazes down across a meadow; appreciating the gentle pause along his stroll.

Exquisite excellence spreading along the rolling hills,

Reminiscence of his bewilderment of their first encounter,

Love at first sight - although love can kill,

And a cure cannot be found over the counter.

Distraught he must be,

Now he finally knows,

He will never be seen,

And his pain will never show.

His stroll gets cut short,

As he is left to lay as he once lived, his body left as his heart, in contort.