sonnet

Funny how a day can loom and rumble
its way toward you like stomachaches
leave you bitter and anxious - worse, humble
to its grand power and the sound it makes
in store windows and candy boxes, each flower shop
singing its praises from petal to petal
while I grimace and snarl at even the red stop
sign placed innocently at intersections. I'm ill
with the thought of love so loud, roses
hopelessly adding to the clamor. The scents of chocolate
scandalize the streets. My heart closes
as billboard lovers swoon and manipulate.

I wanted only the simplest of tenderness.
A tiny shudder in the veins, or something less.