Clumsy Sonnet

[butterflydreaming]

Shall I begin to write a verse to you
A sonnet to contain my weedy thoughts?
Without this rhyme and meter I pursue
My meaning snags, and winds itself in knots.

To use a sonnet's boundries is more apt
Politely and decorously enclosed
And like a present, with a ribbon wrapped
State affection, without my love imposed

And still, I cannot get the meter right.
I fear you'll think this love is second-hand
Or find it's declaration impolite,
repugnant, or that you'll misunderstand

These final lines should hold the poem's key
But I'm afraid of what you'll think of me.