Trust Me Baby This Is Love
If this is not love, then what would it be
Since the past days, I am lost in a haze
My mood, dreamy and my senses foamy
Why, none would be able to put out this blaze
None except the muse of this sonnet
The muse, chosen by the skies on purpose
Chosen to help me entangle from life's net
Chosen to hold my frail hand as life flows
The muse I trust will take care of my plight
The muse who shall calm my growling monster
With the aura emanating from his sight
And with his warmth as his awakener
Since these past days, I remain on pink clouds
Hoping not to fall back down on glass shards!
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