I'm not good with words
they always come out wrong
but I'll write you a poem
because you keep me supported like my unswept floorboards
you have that wonderful smell of old ***** books
I want us to get together like cars merging into one lane of traffic
You're prettier than a third grader's sloppy cursive
You have a shine kinda like how people shine after sweating in the heat
you're more attractive than an icecream truck to suburban little kids
Your eyes are greener than lettuce
and your voice is more captivating than ****** pop music on the radio

Here's your poem
I told you I'm no good with words so yeah I'm not sure how to end this

I should have realized earlier
what I pondered this day
because there is nothing better
than admitting what you want to say.

My love for him is not eternal
cause maybe even feeling dismal
though I'm not taking back what I said.

And as selfish as this may sound,
I want to keep his company
on any type of steep and ground
and be with him eternally.

It is too much to ask
for I know that fully well
and to be true and stark,
his life with me would be hell.

Although I see his patience
in the three year pursuit,
my trust in him bends
for only a little of it was true.

It is futile to deny
that I forgive not forget.

One reason is limited to one cry,
and my mind is usually always set.

You used to like the word **** until it was screamed at you with sheer malice
You used to like green tea until a mug of it was thrown at you and it shattered against the wall
You used to like smoking until a cigarette scorched your skin
You used to like letters until one was never sent back
You used to like adventures until you got lost
You used to love me
You used to

How does it taste?
How does your tongue taste when you sing the bitter harmony of lies?
How does it feel?
How do your fingertips feel as they meticulously contrive an intricate twist of the truth with the ease of blinking?
How does it look?
How do you look yourself in the mirror after deluding some one into false hope to avoid an unpleasant conversation?
How does it sound?
How do you hear yourself relenting nontruths without wanting to rip your ears and lips off?

How does it taste?
How do I taste when you're tackling my tongue and heart while avoiding the truth?
How does it feel?
How do I feel with my hand in yours while your other hand holds the reality?
How does it look?
How does my smile look with your knowledge that I shouldn't have it?
How does it sound?
How does my confiding that my love for you is true sound while you stutter out I love you too?

I'll write you a sonnet poem
because I value you like platinum
or chrome
I'd even let you be my future child's mum
or just my lover
Whatever you want
I'll be your shelter and cover
or something just to flaunt
just hold me close
or at least think of me the same
because for you I'd overdose
and I smile at the mention of your name

well I hope you stay awhile
because if my mind was a computer, I wouldn't be able to delete your file

I don't believe in God, I believe in Charles Darwin
because what God would let kids in Africa become so thin?
What kind of God would have people discriminate because of skin?
We all share the same blood
so why don't we all just get along and roll in the mud?
Instead of getting engulfed in society like a flood.
**** is wrong and that's a ******* fact
So why don't we wait for a yes before we act?
She wasn't begging for it when she was sexually attacked.
It was because of ****
that are just a waste of egg and ***
you're so ******* dumb
You make me suicidal
if we're counting straws this is the final

It is February
From my balcony
Yesterday I saw
a man in suit and tie
eating his lunch in a Mercedes
some old ladies crossing the street
in colorful hats
Maybe they were from England
A group of Jews with beards
and long coats walked slowly

“Let them mind their business,
while we have *** in the city”
Said she
and we took our clothes off
All this time
amid the noise and mayhem
We made love
culminating in syrupy peace