Sonnet 23

The chest, lips you saved for him with all hearts Which you have just said that your love was dead I told never cut our love’s loving parts But it was real the nice love was buried So many a momentary holy tear Just being the fallen rain from your eye Or the rock of the neighbor now appear But it’s the wonderful play in you lie! Rather than you shotted the Springs do live Hanging love story of our lover gone Sacrificed virgin for him as did give: Me, it’s me life of poet - a sad bone! Our images I loved that I couldn’t see And you, the nice traitor in soul of me.