You know it's true when I say
that we are messed up
in our own little way.

We cry and complain
This is a mess
but when it's gone
our life's just too plain
We miss the madness.

But that's human nature
by which we abide
Because the grass is always greener
on the other side.

So over the last two hours,
I've been writing these poems
So I could stomach
My Spaghetti.

So I've been really sick lately,
I've lost a lot of weight
But I write these poems so I can eat
My Spaghetti.

Meanwhile,
I didn't realize that
I'm becoming less cold inside, but not
My Spaghetti.

After two hours,
My stomach is ready
For food that's no longer appeasing
My Spaghetti.

I teach my
little daughter about
things in the sea with
flippers, and I feel
like Neptune or
Posideon.
I can smell
the salty breeze.

Sometimes,
I feel like
I won the lottery.
Don't get me wrong,
I'm broke most
of the time, but
my life is rich with
golden memories, and
silver moments, built
one day at a time.

Like two lips,
pursed together,
but in a smile.

The petals are smooth -
coloured in silky shades
of red or pink
or perhaps a
vibrant cerise.

He buys me these flowers
every anniversary
to remind me

of his deep
and enduring love.