Is this even Poetry?
Maybe I would have loved better? How dare you? How dare I? I question beyond a shadow of a doubt of love. And do you know how it easy it is to see so far away? Do you know what its like to be but the torn of roses, rosey love? Oh fuck that.
Because all I really want to do is Kiss you goodnight.
I guess I am full of question. Maybe thats what it all means. But the ribbion around the tree, fuck the tree. I know I sound vulguar, but dont you get sick of all the shit, all the shit that's always been around. Theres always been the tree with the ribbion, and you did discribe it so beatufully, and i DO still love you. don't cry! I do still love you with all my heart, and its not about that. Its not about us! BUt I couldn't say a thing, or I guess I shouldn't say a thing, because I know. I know you lovely, and I know you well. And again, for a million times over, my heart still achs for you. I still love you. But I am lost a little right now. I am lost baby. I am lost in your heart, as well as my own. and I feel the passion. I don't know if it sounds good. But I do feel it again. Through the keyboard baby. I love you. I do. I love you. BUt someimtes I can be so scared. Sometimes I can be so scared. SOMETIMES! i can be. so... scared?
But reread, reread words aren't that ture. Who says I'm scared. Maybe in the moment of passion, truth does escape me. But maybe I want to retract that, being more scared than I was before. and is this even POETRY?
This is a point where I want you to read that last line over again. And pause on it. Read the whole poem lovely, read and and pause on that line. Pause and enjoy it. Let my pain, my angst, my love, and happiness too dwell in all of you. Feel it so deeply that I feel it too. Let me stop a moment and dream of you when you read this. I want you to suckale on it like it was your last words. DIG DEEP, and just go for it. Ready? All over again baby. Together. Holding hands? Will you still hold my hand? I'll still wipe about your tears, because by now I know you. Your make up is all over your face. If by getting older I learned one thing baby, and maybe thats why I haven't written you a peom in a long time, that no matter how poetic the words, no matter how pretty they sound, just talking to you, just thinking of you, just speaking of you, is poetry all its own. My love in poetry, poetry beyond the words. My love is a consalation of stars on the clearest night at the clearest spot, when you can see THEM ALL! Imagine that. The cool breeze, the kiss, and of course the stars. I do love you baby, and that, THAT is my poetry.
To all lovers, I bid forwell, for do not spend your time on me, for i am a humble servent of love.
I bow. i smile a charsimatic smile.
and I laugh slightly when I saw I hope the spelling isn't too bad.