"Hey, babe, the taxi will be here in five minutes. No more poetry for two weeks. Copenhagen, here we come."

"Yeah, I need a break, Bertha. I've run dry of ideas anyway."

"You'll have plenty of material when we return."

"God, I love you. I can't wait to get to the hotel room."

"Snap!"

"Logging out... now."

"Grandma?"

"Yes, sweet pea?"

"Does Grandad kiss and touch you because he loves you?"

"Of course!"

"Oh, okay. I won't complain next time he babysits."

"Say what?"

You know it, and you know it well.
Do I really have to say it? Hell.
I'll get straight to the point;
I am the obvious choice.
You can’t shake me, I’m your joint;
before you sleep, I’m that little voice.
Do you really have others anyway?
And if you do, are there really
better options, by the way?
Are there any other poems on your desk?
And if there are, are they actually
sent and written by the best?
So do I really have to say it?
You already know it.
No matter the language,
the truth simply drips from your lips.
You can’t escape me, I’m your missing rib;
before you go, kiss me as you pull my hips.
I’m the wave that rips.
I’m the edge of the cliff.
I’m the winning manuscript.
You know it, and you know it well.

You dim the light of others,
just so you can shine.

Does it make you feel good smirking
when you hear them cry?

You take our kindness for granted
and we’d help you every time.

One day you might fall over
as we won’t be your shoulder to cry on this time.

New years resolution
  No more small talk
No more abbreviations
     No more emojis
    No more Tik Tok
  No more instagram
  No more facebook

      (‘< Duck Off <‘)

I wish I could tell you,
How much you mean to me.
When I try to write about my feelings,
They simply escape me.