SONNET 109

She's better than all women while not mine.
Her thoughts are purer while invoiced, alone.
Her words are wiser while I'm drunk on wine.
Her virtues far more precious while unknown.
Her skin feels softer while untouched behind.
Her lips are sweeter while not tasted yet.
Her eyes are brighter while my love is blind.
Her beauty greater while skin-deep it's set.
I shun her not because, sent from above
She was not, (far more pleasant), but because,
While I love her, she's not the one I love
And her love is not love and never was.
So I regard her love both won and lost
Instead of seeking for it to my cost.

(Author: EDEN SANTOS OLIVEIRA. Written in: 07/12/2004.)