Poetry or You?
Is that what you're 
asking me to choose?

Aren't you both the same?
Your soul in my poetry,
my poetry in your soul.

Whatever I choose,
I'll end up having both of you.
Don't you get that?

Your silence, my figures of speech.
When it speaks more than words can,
hyperbole.
When it hides a million verses,
metaphor.
When it rings the sound of your laughter,
alliteration.
A lot of similes in your smile.
Your eyes, my poetic insights.

You blushing, is my rhyme.
Without it, they're only free verses.
Free from that charm, that innocence.

You wonder why this is a free verse?
Because you didn't blush yet.
Or did you?

Hey you. Can you BE any more stupid? Stupid enough to call yourself Princess Consuela Bananahammock? Signing off, Crapbag.

27 JUN AT 14:31