You cut a dashing figure
between em and en and
oh, by the way

Your abbreviated smile
has me wondering what
it stands for

as I place my finger on
your ellipsis … you lead me on,
there is no doubt
I feel left out

But as we track and kern
our forms, ascending,
make ligatures to avoid
an overlap of strokes

a diphthong doth emerge
o’er our line o’ type
and what was once

paragraphed into separateness,
our thoughts juxtaposed

begins to merge
(bind in parentheses)
you’n’me make syncope

and, once the story forms,
the digraphs make shapes
with our mouths.

Pilcrow, the Blind P,
once said,

"Allow me, ma'am/sir,
  for it looks like
  you could use a break.
  Besides, Hedera is hard
  and annoying, so full of herself,
  and up to her neck in ivy."

That was a Snark.
But who could tell?
Simply forgot to point it out.
Guess it's better to
leave things unsaid.

In the end
there's only enough
room for the Asterism.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.

You can control love,
as you type.
You can change the style,
which evokes feeling.
Script — curvy lines,
fitting for passion.
Sans Serif — Strong,
but friendly.
Grunge — Anger or,
vengeful.
Serif — Elegant,
and structured.
This four letter word —
is a shapeshifter.
Shifting styles, weights and
kerning on a whim.
You can control love,
highlight and change it.
Again.

But, love is fluid,
as fonts are to typographers,
as words are to poets.

Hell, isn't it?
Your insides yearning to flee.
Don't give me that look, you ****!
You deluded yourself, not me.

Didn't I warn you?
Didn't I tell you to stop?
But you said you could handle it.
You said you'll never tap.

But why is this house now empty?
Where did the warmth go?
I told you it will never be easy.
But you opted to start the show.

Now you left me with nothing.
As you ran yourself to hide.
You just proved again what a fool I am.
For trusting you sublime.

Forgive me my Little One
That you have to see and endure this crunch
I know you long for your old man
But he chose to leave and will never have the chance.

My heart aches when you look for him
You’re way too young to understand his whim
But know that I’ll never leave your side
However things turn out on the other side.

Hush dear child, Mama's got this.
Fear none, my shields are endless.
You and I, we're infinite;
Forever threading the waves of life.
Highs and lows.
Scars behold.
Together we'll rise unscathed.

My thinking is in bold,
but my words in lower-case.

She dreams in italics,
but,
unfortunately,
speaks in CAPITALS.