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ShayCarolinePoems
Dear Katie,                   please pardon the confusion-- mine, yours, the weather's. In group they wanted us to talk about someone who really loves us. I started to laugh                             like slipping on ice I couldn't wave myself fast enough                             to save a fall and the laughing became an ugly cry. They like us to do things with our hands here so I made                 a love potion for you. Yeah, too late. like checking a smoking oven. But,        I can still portion by intuition like how much to kiss you in the morning. I used a pinch of rust from a love lock the memory of five black tulips and 1 tsp essence of caramel fudge ice cream--        Jeff Buckley ballads to taste         baked at 350 until the moon turns silver like your poetry. Gosh Katie,                    they took away my books, said I needed to engage with others. I went back to group today and said, whoa, back up-- let's do that thing                               from yesterday. I pulled my **** together this time, not like before, and I said,                 Katie mon amour                  Katie je t'aime je t'aime, je t'aime. This one ***** goes, you're not French, you're not even Canadian you ******* freak But she never stumbled drunk up the stairs with you, poetry ringing in our ears and the summer night on our skin. More to be pitied than scorned,                                                     I can hear you say. Anyway,               love ya girl Katie mon amour,               Our Lady of Tulips and the Silver Moon.
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Aug 7, 2025
Aug 7, 2025 at 2:12 PM UTC
Valentine
Dear Katie,                   please pardon the confusion-- mine, yours, the weather's. In group they wanted us to talk about someone who really loves us. I started to laugh                             like slipping on ice I couldn't wave myself fast enough                             to save a fall and the laughing became an ugly cry. They like us to do things with our hands here so I made                 a love potion for you. Yeah, too late. like checking a smoking oven. But,        I can still portion by intuition like how much to kiss you in the morning. I used a pinch of rust from a love lock the memory of five black tulips and 1 tsp essence of caramel fudge ice cream--        Jeff Buckley ballads to taste         baked at 350 until the moon turns silver like your poetry. Gosh Katie,                    they took away my books, said I needed to engage with others. I went back to group today and said, whoa, back up-- let's do that thing                               from yesterday. I pulled my **** together this time, not like before, and I said,                 Katie mon amour                  Katie je t'aime je t'aime, je t'aime. This one ***** goes, you're not French, you're not even Canadian you ******* freak But she never stumbled drunk up the stairs with you, poetry ringing in our ears and the summer night on our skin. More to be pitied than scorned,                                                     I can hear you say. Anyway,               love ya girl Katie mon amour,               Our Lady of Tulips and the Silver Moon.
I was asked to compose a valentine. This is it.
#valentines#love#loss#tulips
ShayCaroline
Written by
ShayCaroline
70/GF/USA
Aug 7, 2025
Aug 7, 2025 at 2:12 PM UTC
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