sonnet 6

quiet this heart of mine,
noisy with ceaseless chatter.
romanticism perfect, sunblime
full of things that dont matter.

oh how i want to believe,
to listen with silly ears.
but empty thoughts only conceive
indulgent desire for fears.

balancing as if against wind
my mind is fighting sleep.
i know i cannot yield, bend
for i have promises to keep.

if only these moments alone
were free from what ive sown.