Times New Roman reminds me of a time when I knew that romance was not dead because I got to hold it in my hand
The curve of the characters reminds me of the uneven curve of your cupids bow
The claustrophobic clustering of vowels reminds me of the cringe worthy cling of your foggy glass frames stuck to mine, failing sight feeding failed intimacy
The simplicity of each symbol reminds me of the systematic sufficiency with which you seduced me in so few words,
the straightforward soliloquy with which you struck me and bereft me of my sanity.
The length of each letter reminds me of the longevity of our last embrace
Lanky limbs looped laterally to the length of my body for literal milliseconds
The overuse in overdue essays typed in early hours of the morning reminds me of the overuse of three words and the emptiness and lack of effort behind them,
Submitting those three words for a good grade and a pat on the back, coming up short because professor and princess alike saw through the inability to do
With meaning,
That your words had no feeling.
The fact that though I've faced fancier fonts and fell for them fanatically, I always return to the first, reminds me that though a fair few have found more than friendship in my fragile forearms that the first is the forever
and if at times the former
then always the future
the finest font I've ever found is you
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
Times New Roman reminds me of a time when I knew that romance was not dead because I got to hold it in my hand
The curve of the characters reminds me of the uneven curve of your cupids bow
The claustrophobic clustering of vowels reminds me of the cringe worthy cling of your foggy glass frames stuck to mine, failing sight feeding failed intimacy
The simplicity of each symbol reminds me of the systematic sufficiency with which you seduced me in so few words,
the straightforward soliloquy with which you struck me and bereft me of my sanity.
The length of each letter reminds me of the longevity of our last embrace
Lanky limbs looped laterally to the length of my body for literal milliseconds
The overuse in overdue essays typed in early hours of the morning reminds me of the overuse of three words and the emptiness and lack of effort behind them,
Submitting those three words for a good grade and a pat on the back, coming up short because professor and princess alike saw through the inability to do
With meaning,
That your words had no feeling.
The fact that though I've faced fancier fonts and fell for them fanatically, I always return to the first, reminds me that though a fair few have found more than friendship in my fragile forearms that the first is the forever
and if at times the former
then always the future
the finest font I've ever found is you