Love is its own telepathic language/that we will never truly be able to translate/no matter how hard we try/how much we ramble on/in poetic verse/trying to explain something using sound waves/I wish I could open my mind up to you/so you could feel the telepathic love I write each day/in my heart/ like a passionate song/ in a drowned ship in a bottle/stained and covered by water/so all the ink blurs/ you can no longer read it/but you know whatever is hidden there is profound
Jan 11, 2025
Jan 11, 2025 at 10:45 AM UTC
Love is its own telepathic language/that we will never truly be able to translate/no matter how hard we try/how much we ramble on/in poetic verse/trying to explain something using sound waves/I wish I could open my mind up to you/so you could feel the telepathic love I write each day/in my heart/ like a passionate song/ in a drowned ship in a bottle/stained and covered by water/so all the ink blurs/ you can no longer read it/but you know whatever is hidden there is profound
This is mortifying.
It appears I've literally forgotten how to write a poem
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