Your Sonnet 18

I shan't compare thee to a summer's day;
Darkness in your eyes won't let the sun shine.
A summer's night should be what you portray;
Drowned in mystery ever so divine. 
Melancholic tones of rose on your lips
Paint the moon above in a pleasant light. 
The wind dances under your fingertips;
Your gentle motion trances me to write.
For what do you care, for what do you sigh?
Nature stands silenced as you start to speak;
Droplets of your mind make your angels cry.
Oh, for you to make the whole world less bleak.
So long as without you I will suffer,
So long as my summer nights get tougher.