You’ve pulled quite the Garamond on me, Darling
Hopscotching through the narrowing gorges
You’ve stomped all over the irregularities
Of my love which let you slide off
To frantically typing bigger decisions
Some cinema coloured cameo which my ‘e’,
It seems, is too small to decipher.
My twisted words fell short of your Upper Case emotions,
my Love
I’m smaller than I would have been;
Hooked on to ‘a’ crooked past left on the left
I’m constantly a-‘x’-ing new born regrets.
A delusion, as Garamond as your current status of silence,
Pesters my attempts to write little work reports
So, please love me
again, if you think I am reason enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment