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Jenny Gordon May 2019
...I lose.


Lo:  men.  Do NOT tell him, "I don't care hence
About you--" for whatever cause.  In pale
Excuse it's back on track and we're to scale
What, eh?  Forget the little things fr'intents:
Th'espressos Dad enjoyed with me; that sense
Of ah, delicious rain! The sweet detail
Of coffee with a dear friend--you prevail.
It does not matter what I try.  Now whence?
I messaged YOU on Instagram.  What fer?!
I'd comment on YOUR YouTube vids, and too,
Left one on Twitter.  YOU ignore all, poor
As trying to uh, communicate with YOU.
It's face to face:  that's all.  YOU win.  Ya, stir
Me to those "nutty smiles" oer...YOU.  What'

I, I, don't know what to say.  Besides, what don't you know already?
Jenny Gordon Aug 2017
You do, over and over, tell me how it happened, and it still makes absolutely no sense.  Why are YOU so perfect?

(sonnet #MMMMMMDXLI)

The moon was here to splash a glance' detail
Upon my legs whileas we talked.  Gone hence
Just as the hours we spent in talking, whence?
Tis aye, more heartning with a Christian, frail
Though aught excuse be dating to avail
Erm, UNbelievers.  Twilight's blue suspense
'Hind Maples' silent boughs, thet eye peered thence
Twixt slumbring leaves, a golden orb to scale.
And in a blink I'm what?  Dare I aver
We are--yes, friends?  You said that note would do.
Let me rest there nor draw up visions fer
Chagrin.  Night's blacker touch knows stars and dew
While crickets fiddle 'cross the teeming moor.
I'm scared, not of aught monsters, loving you.

I prolly coulda written a paragraph here that first night, but now I know how to spell my last name, and...what's left to say?

— The End —