Why must your youness be so
Impeccably imperfect,
That I cannot write you justice;
Cannot conjure even a shell of you.
Ever the joker you dance
At the edges of my vision;
Remain uncapturable yet unforgettable,
As I feverishly, fervently fail to
Sketch the shape of you.
My love,
I would slit my wrists with a ballpoint pen,
If only the ink ran a truer colour of you.
Rivers stain paper and corners curl crisp;
My pen runs dry over and over.
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 8:49 AM UTC
Why must your youness be so
Impeccably imperfect,
That I cannot write you justice;
Cannot conjure even a shell of you.
Ever the joker you dance
At the edges of my vision;
Remain uncapturable yet unforgettable,
As I feverishly, fervently fail to
Sketch the shape of you.
My love,
I would slit my wrists with a ballpoint pen,
If only the ink ran a truer colour of you.
Rivers stain paper and corners curl crisp;
My pen runs dry over and over.