Infatuation Sonnet

The mind plays wicked tricks on barren lonely hearts
begetting false tugs on her strings by callous machination. 
Cupid’s fickle nature held within his fleeting darts
to wit, producing nothing but unhealthy infatuation. 
Dark brown crops sway in the breeze atop of nature’s glory, 
her rolling hills of turquoise gold invite my meagre touch. 
Two emeralds lay, ebony lined, and tell a joyful story.
Alas, for my world weary heart, I fear it is too much. 
When sunshine smiles amalgamate through Alchemistic plans
to warm the frozen crystal shards transported through my veins, 
I aways turn tail and walk away, to hide my shaking hands. 
For fear that to get closer would be to share with all my pains. 
And so I walk not on the paths of nature’s beautiful gift. 
But alone, in seas of black. Isolated, and cast adrift.