love is most certainly a trident of foolishness plunging through your chest.
lust is much worse, its sickening violin string debauchery.
attention lurks in a trench coat behind the dumpsters in the alley where you must walk home from work everyday. it laughs at you as you hasten your speed.
compliments divide and conquer like Johnny Appleseed emperors; pies and corpses.
desire floats in a hideous parade, all spangled with seat belts and natural disasters.
need dries its hands on your soul, leaving smudges like overturned canoes.
and flirtation is just like this: an ecstatically bland jumble of words like towers, keeping you out and locking you in.
Damn trident! Poetry is definitely your element.
Haha : ) Thank you.
What corner? I may have seen you there. Love this, by the way. Very… visceral.
The darkest corner of the oldest library. And thanks.
You know it, I know it. Sigh.
It can’t be taught; it has to be read. I’ve always been the strange girl reading poetry in the corner, so I have lots of practice.
I like your words better than mine. I’ve always wanted to be good at writing poetry, like this is. My brain just doesn’t work well with it. Gah. I’d ask you to teach me but I don’t think it can be taught.