I'd much rather Critique
as I rein king when I put on that hat
As he lain before me is subject to my snarling
Picking his hair from my giblets and jams.

For to create
creates your own undoing
To look before oneself
and watch
as aristocrats
pluck pimples from your own potatoes.

The Two Poems I won't forget:
You read them warmly as if your lips were butterscotch
Looking just beyond your notebook paper.
Reading with the bittersweetness of siren's song
knowing whoever listens will perish
The sounds gracing our ears to enter our hearts.
Your poems of a velvet sofa left by the street
and a matchstick box waiting to be burned.
I will never forget those poems.
Ever.

Till Death, do Us part
A joke at my expense?
Trivial
BR oKen Hearts
Never wanting to shatter
Though, we never did leave

Now I smile, but only when
Looking
Backward.

Child like innocence
and strange infatuations
Limbo

Limited days spent thinking of the
love of my life
soon to change
the next week.

Hiding furtive crushes from the ones you love.
Until they realize it
ten seconds later

Acting as if these trivial days
will matter years later.

But somehow, still wanting those days to never go away.