I wear you like a bruise
You will not go away
I am at your every whim
I have to obey

You hold me like a gun
Pointed at my own head
You won’t leave me alone
Can I please go to bed?

I am your only weapon
You use me
To hurt me
Scars that I had no say in
Scars that only stay.
That won't go away.

I am my only weapon
I abuse me
And hurt me
Scars that I have no say in
Scars that only stay.
I cannot go away.

A rowan like a lipsticked girl.
Between the by-road and the main road
Alder trees at a wet and dripping distance
Stand off among the rushes.

There are the mud-flowers of dialect
And the immortelles of perfect pitch
And that moment when the bird sings very close
To the music of what happens.

It is a priviledge to be loved by a poet,
to be embraced by the meter and the rhyme
and caressed by soft metaphors and sharp alliterations.
To be painted a universe with words and run-on sentences
that converge in a single thought expressed with
similes and repetitions of a single symbol.
It is an honor to be loved by a poet,
to be celebrated with odes, mourned with elegys
and elevated to a pedestal by a canticle.
It is a marvel to be loved by a poet,
to be the muse of long, weary nights of concentration
and be part of passionate lines in dramatic monologues
as each is recited with the intonation of rising ardour.
To be submerged in sizzling appreciation of one's quirks
and virtue.
To be loved and to love.
To provoke an inspiration and a sigh of ephemeral longing
and bring about a remedy to the mourning.
It is a misery and joy to be loved and be of unrequited
provocative inspiration to the riveting mind of a lone
and solitary poet.

twinged and dulled
we free our minds
in what seems like a
slow motion replay of
tinted white noise

I fear rejection
Yet I told you how I felt
And now I'm waiting here
With this nothingness
And that's one problem
With speaking through glass screens
But every time I speak to you
I find myself anxious
And I feel like I'll get rejected
But I usually
Reject myself
Before I get rejected by anyone else

i can't believe i wasted
poetry
on you.