why does love always
feel like a battlefield. a
battlefield. a battlefield.
a friend of a brother once said,
biting his tongue and
chewing his cheek.
hand glued to his mandible
head tilted like a sinking ship
taking in its final breath, huuuuaaaaa
and before it sinks in
a miraculous cacophony;; it
exhales, aaaaaaaahh.
why do we stop, when we can
start, i asked Sartre, who
may have responded in a
tongue i can’t taste.
i’m amazed. love
and swords, such imagery!
and repetition like cupids’
arrows fired from each side
of such silly, important warfare.
i’m glad-
in this battlefield. battlefield
battlefield, i’m not fighting a
battle, or settling a skirmish;
i’ve sat down with the blonde haired
soldiers (though my comrades
shake brown locks), and we’ve
begun to play soccer and drink
in the name of conflict.
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 8:24 AM UTC
why does love always
feel like a battlefield. a
battlefield. a battlefield.
a friend of a brother once said,
biting his tongue and
chewing his cheek.
hand glued to his mandible
head tilted like a sinking ship
taking in its final breath, huuuuaaaaa
and before it sinks in
a miraculous cacophony;; it
exhales, aaaaaaaahh.
why do we stop, when we can
start, i asked Sartre, who
may have responded in a
tongue i can’t taste.
i’m amazed. love
and swords, such imagery!
and repetition like cupids’
arrows fired from each side
of such silly, important warfare.
i’m glad-
in this battlefield. battlefield
battlefield, i’m not fighting a
battle, or settling a skirmish;
i’ve sat down with the blonde haired
soldiers (though my comrades
shake brown locks), and we’ve
begun to play soccer and drink
in the name of conflict.
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