The Sonnet of the Kiss

Oh, this boy, I hate it so,
How he bends me to his will,
How his touches tend to fill
My heart, make it overflow
With feelings that make me all but glow,
Force what little time is left to stand still,
And he keeps me in his spell until
It suits him to let me go.

His eyes, they seem to sing a song
That grips me in his clutches,
Makes me forget what is right,
He must not know what he does is wrong,
When his hand goes and hushes
My set of morals for the night.