like I did when I was
15.
Because then I could tell you
how your hair smells like
saffron,
even though I have no idea
what saffron smells like,
or if that's even a good thing
to smell like.
I wish I could write poems
like I did when I was
15.
Because I could write about
how your lips taste like hot rain
and your eyes look like blue emeralds
and your skin feels like terrycloth.
Similes.
I wish I could write poems
like I did when I was
15.
I.
Would.
Separate.
And.
Capitalize.
Every.
Word.
So.
You.
Knew.
How.
Much.
I.
Meant.
Each.
One.
AND I WOULD SUDDENLY USE ALL CAPITAL LETTERS. AND RIGHT-ALIGN THOSE LETTERS.
And then I'd go back to left-align.
I wish I could write poems
like I did when I was
15.
I would go off on some tangent
about death
or God
or pain
or corporations
or conformity
or this shitty town we live in
and it would be just us
against any of those
or ALL of them
and we would win
or at least we would makeout trying.
I would use the shit out of my thesaurus.
Bewitching, comely, resplendent.
Statuesque, sublime, pulchritudinous.
Beautiful.
Ennui.
I wish I could write poems
like I did when I was
15.
I would work on that poem
until my dad told me to get off the computer
because it's his turn,
and then I'd roll my eyes and sigh
and print out what I'd written
and take it to my room
and I'd finish it in pen
and I'd think how much more romantic and poetic it was
when I wrote in pen
and that I'd do that from then on.
I'd even write that shit in cursive.
I wish I could write poems
like I did when I was
15.
Because I would fold the paper up
into perfect eighths
and slip it into the slats of your locker
or if I somehow had balls that day
I'd hand it to you,
And if I somehow had the biggest balls I ever had that day,
I'd hand it to you
and say, "I wrote this for you."
And you would hold my poem in your hand
and you would look directly into my eyes
with your blue blue emeralds
for half a second,
for so much longer than you ever had before,
and say,
"Creepy."
I wish I could write poems
like I did when I was
15.
I would go off on some tangent
about death
or God
or pain
or corporations
or conformity
or this shitty town we live in
and it would be just us
against any of those
or ALL of them
and we would win
or at least we would makeout trying.
I would use the shit out of my thesaurus.
Bewitching, comely, resplendent.
Statuesque, sublime, pulchritudinous.
Beautiful.
Ennui.
I wish I could write poems
like I did when I was
15.
I would work on that poem
until my dad told me to get off the computer
because it's his turn,
and then I'd roll my eyes and sigh
and print out what I'd written
and take it to my room
and I'd finish it in pen
and I'd think how much more romantic and poetic it was
when I wrote in pen
and that I'd do that from then on.
I'd even write that shit in cursive.
I wish I could write poems
like I did when I was
15.
Because I would fold the paper up
into perfect eighths
and slip it into the slats of your locker
or if I somehow had balls that day
I'd hand it to you,
And if I somehow had the biggest balls I ever had that day,
I'd hand it to you
and say, "I wrote this for you."
And you would hold my poem in your hand
and you would look directly into my eyes
with your blue blue emeralds
for half a second,
for so much longer than you ever had before,
and say,
"Creepy."
5 comments:
gold.
love it.
with a love as immense and deep as a saffron filled ocean.
*blush*
I am gonna write you like fifty haikus and slip em to you between classes.
that poem was amazing. or as my thesaurus says, prodigious.
another fifty haikus!
May the poetry muse always protect you from nefarious spirits. And. Can I have a Mento?
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