this poem
is not a poem about
you.
it is a boring poem
a poem of mundane
day-to-day things, like
toothbrushes and broken
buttons and leek
and potato soup.
it most certainly
is not a poem about the way
your smile fills
my heart with the taste
of caramelized pears and
how your voice vibrates with
a frequency that shocks electricity
through my synapses and
awakens the lilac and golden
butterflies that live in a
cage of spun sugar and sparkles
in my stomach.
it is not a poem
about the little
universes that pulse in
your irises,
nor is it a poem concerning
the curve of your cheek or
those two freckles that
are hidden when you
smile.
no, this poem
is definitely not
a poem about
you.














Comments
--
Death is the high cost of living.
a frequency that shocks electricity
through my synapses and
awakens the lilac and golden
butterflies that live in a
cage of spun sugar and sparkles
in my stomach.
I love this part!
--
"What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset." Crowfoot, Blackfoot warrior and orator 1830 - 1890
--
you are my sweetest downfall
--
you are my sweetest downfall
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