Dear poet,
Dear ***** talker of some unrequited nasty,
Dear slow admirer,
Noticing my detail like a detective
Twist this halo into handcuffs
And love me already
Or don’t
I’m not real
And if I were
I’d hate to be her
You perfect pitch psalm sayer
Waxing generic
Quit the verbal dance
And dance with me
I am glad you know I’m not perfect
I am as faulty
As a topographical map of California
This body is chills
Is goosebumps
Is legs that were soft yesterday
Kiss them
Prickle your cheeks
Does your beard know the difference?
Do you?
Do I feel like scented sandpaper love notes
Still stained with a kiss?
I know I might just be squid ink to everyone else
But you dear poet
Dear detective
Black lighting my flaws into glowing beauty
Put your lips to my stains
They still taste like stains
You made them
You made me
You made me Dear Poet
Stop talking
And take me
Mar 24, 2012
Mar 24, 2012 at 3:09 AM UTC
Dear poet,
Dear ***** talker of some unrequited nasty,
Dear slow admirer,
Noticing my detail like a detective
Twist this halo into handcuffs
And love me already
Or don’t
I’m not real
And if I were
I’d hate to be her
You perfect pitch psalm sayer
Waxing generic
Quit the verbal dance
And dance with me
I am glad you know I’m not perfect
I am as faulty
As a topographical map of California
This body is chills
Is goosebumps
Is legs that were soft yesterday
Kiss them
Prickle your cheeks
Does your beard know the difference?
Do you?
Do I feel like scented sandpaper love notes
Still stained with a kiss?
I know I might just be squid ink to everyone else
But you dear poet
Dear detective
Black lighting my flaws into glowing beauty
Put your lips to my stains
They still taste like stains
You made them
You made me
You made me Dear Poet
Stop talking
And take me
It was suggested to me today that I wirte a poem from the perspective of the person who is recieving all the love poetry I write. What would she say?
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