drafts

You are worse than any writer’s block that I’ve ever encountered;


My god!
You're God?
Your goddess,
That ethereal creature spun of wispy crystal and shimmering light,


That radiance, soft edges, jagged spikes-


Squint your eyes


Let your imagination take over


To glance at this full figured, hot blooded beauty ensures only blindness


The epitomy of clichés, because after all,


There really can be too much of a good thing.



I’m anxious


And struggling to find words that will fit this perception I have of you


This grotesque creation in my mind that you’ve become


The sonnet mutating into free verse with no structure


I can’t predict you- and I hate that


Screaming behind your back


DETEST AND LOATHE AND ENVY AND SPITE


If only because I can never have you



You refuse to answer me,


Evading every word I speak


My use of diction tone syntax imagery transforming into my defeat


There is no way around you except for what simply is,


Refusing to conform to my poetic vices, 


So I bottle these words


Up


Carefully or they may loosen the hold you have on my heart



Eloping with unconventional grammatical structure, 

Because really, who gives a fuck about an oxford comma?

You know my puppy dog stare 


Because I can’t see anything but you when you’re around me


And I’m in your arms


Your fingers resting lightly on my hipbones


Anatomically perfect
Catatonic


Can you even begin to realize what it’s like to be so speechless?


Hurling your entire body out into the world,


But missing the target?



Do you know how it feels when poetry throws you over its shoulders?


When it’s got you pinned up against a wall working you so well


It hurts


And you’re aching in every muscle, 


Begging it to stop, but so afraid of it pulling out


Because you might lose the magic in your verses


Asking you to take a hit
You know you can’t


Recover


From