Poem inspired by the title of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 142: “Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear Virtue Hate.”

Before you instruct me how to sin
in love’s most licentious of ways, know that the moon
observes everything,
my lips imperial red and jaded
when you kiss them forcibly the clouds
above dissipate,
know that night has relished storms far worse than this;
April won’t lament
nor sing inside me for days to come.

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted for Poems in April @ Real Toads