it ain't easy, when you relate, restrict and delegate,
when you draw a narrow lane on a highway that says
only left footed
poets need apply
<>
it does not say
**slow cars stay to the right,
only trucks,
or oddly even,
no trucks**
I love seasonality,
without thickly thinking
you take a break
from the poetry writing
one day I'll figure out a way
to monetize my love poems,
publish them as Shakespeare's couple(t)s,
"new edition plus
a couple of
newfound poems!"
maybe some fools will buy some thinking Shakespeare has been, resurrected!
*love grows goes hot all over and
grow slower older
and grow colder,
in between those fine
ticklish teasing moments*
when the miracle of resurrection repeats itself
something is said
a gesture is made
a finger strokes the cheek,
unexpected
and it all comes
rushing back again,
overfilling
that coffee cup mug she bought
just(ice)
for you
*ain't gonna check how long it's been
since last I declaimed, disclaimed,
inflamed,
these pages with an only love poem
but I do know this:
it is something I think about,
It is something I know about,
it is something I feel about
daily
even on the nothing days,
when routine takes over
I know you couldn't remember of its passage,
is the waking up and the lying down to sleep*
but the poets eyes are always open his emotive secret senses,
always alert,
what's that thing they always say,
his heart just wasn't in it!
(🥴if they only knew the truth😘)
Jun 25, 2025
Jun 25, 2025 at 6:04 PM UTC
it ain't easy, when you relate, restrict and delegate,
when you draw a narrow lane on a highway that says
only left footed
poets need apply
<>
it does not say
**slow cars stay to the right,
only trucks,
or oddly even,
no trucks**
I love seasonality,
without thickly thinking
you take a break
from the poetry writing
one day I'll figure out a way
to monetize my love poems,
publish them as Shakespeare's couple(t)s,
"new edition plus
a couple of
newfound poems!"
maybe some fools will buy some thinking Shakespeare has been, resurrected!
*love grows goes hot all over and
grow slower older
and grow colder,
in between those fine
ticklish teasing moments*
when the miracle of resurrection repeats itself
something is said
a gesture is made
a finger strokes the cheek,
unexpected
and it all comes
rushing back again,
overfilling
that coffee cup mug she bought
just(ice)
for you
*ain't gonna check how long it's been
since last I declaimed, disclaimed,
inflamed,
these pages with an only love poem
but I do know this:
it is something I think about,
It is something I know about,
it is something I feel about
daily
even on the nothing days,
when routine takes over
I know you couldn't remember of its passage,
is the waking up and the lying down to sleep*
but the poets eyes are always open his emotive secret senses,
always alert,
what's that thing they always say,
his heart just wasn't in it!
(🥴if they only knew the truth😘)
