This is a love poem.
This is a love and war poem and the nights fitting somewhere between confinement and solitude poem because sometimes those are hard to tell apart.
This is a push her up against the wall poem and either kiss her or cuff her poem because sometimes those are hard to tell apart.
Put some ice on it.
This is a poem about ordering chocolate milk on the rocks and putting your feet up on the dash to either flirt with conformity or irritate his cleanliness because sometimes those are hard to tell apart.
This is a poem that has you up at night changing the channel from sitcom to horror and those are easy to tell apart when love doesn't have you swearing like a sailor and making lists of after thoughts.
This is a love poem.
This is a love poem.
This is a love poem that I hasn't numbed me yet and sometimes I just want to cover my ears at love. When it tells me a word over and over it starts to loose it's meaning.
I did this once to my aunt's name once.
Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky. Becky.
Now
"Aunt Becky" is so plain and so empty and so NOT THERE and love does the same but with different words like, crush or feelings or TRUE LOVE or bad sex or broken or hope or handshake or hellhole or maybe conformity. The sound of rocks hitting my window lost it's signature stomach twinge weeks ago. The cycle's getting old, love.
This is an animosity poem.
Diamond Fangs,
Miss Carter.
This is a love poem. This is an incredible, heart pumping poem. This is my newest favorite poem. This is a written incredibly well poem.
ReplyDeleteI was doing something else and dropped everything to read this post.
ReplyDeleteIt was worth it.
"because sometimes those are hard to tell apart."
I was talking to friends and I stopped to read this. I'm glad I did.
ReplyDeleteI love the stream of consciousness present here and how it takes the reader through your thought process of confinement to solitude and love to animosity.
THAT TITLE THOUGH. Sigh. You. Goodness.
ReplyDelete"This is a love and war poem and the nights fitting somewhere between confinement and solitude poem because sometimes those are hard to tell apart"
ReplyDeleteI can't even handle this, because I just love it so much.
This. I am so much in awe.
ReplyDeleteWhat the h? You deleted your other post. You can't do that!
ReplyDeleteI didn't like it.
Delete