Is it Poetry
to find beauty at the bottom
of a notepad
is it just scribbles & scratches.

Is it Poetry
to glimpse those love lines at your mouth-
how they remind me
of your cracked lipstick smudges.

Is it Poetry
to get lost in the library
to catch a wisp or wave- of your
electrostatic love.

But What IS Poetry.
The cascading colours
swinging, singing and dancing from this monitor.
From you.
                                                        Hello. Poetry.

How're you today?

What do you mean?
"This is on you"-Me?!
Who, rode in gallantly (knight in shining armour my ***)
Swept me away,
then has the *****-
To say

"It didn't mean a thing."
**** this ring
you
and everything love brings.

Gripping. Your hands,
slicked with sweat. But I had
to hold it (hold it) tighter.
Heights aren't scary.
but
I've dropped your
porcelain
skin one time too many.
Left me wary.
No more scars for us.

It was simple at first,
No harm intended.
Who'd of known you were a curse.
I'd of died for and defended.

Come and follow.
down, down this hollow.
Tree, tea and other such triviali-
ties?
Let us land in this lettuce land,
swapping vegetable stories
kissing better our sore knees.
Maybe if we try hard enough
we'll find love.

A spark, a candle lit- as
we share our candlelit dinner; whats on the menu?
Deceit pies, cream lies.
and other some such tasties.

We're too hasty.
Just me, talking to just me
or was it Justine?

We'll never know- a beautiful mess.
I guess.

Rewind.
Back. Again. One more time.
To a kind,
another, close but distant
Memory. A flame. You, me?
Us.
I remember what it was called.
Trust.

I did.
Fall where i swore "Not too".
So what? In the end, i got You.

For a split-second- or at least,
what I felt. In the end
I had You. Right?