Boo

Boo I could draft a ballad about how you’re my new muse. How, if I need inspiration, I have, and will never lose how you make me feel creative whilst singing lullabies. Though I could convince you, sometimes it would be a lie. I could pen a poem about how you puke on me. How, through anxious perspiration, you sap all my energy. How I long for a sedative whilst rocking you to sleep. I could draw that picture but it wouldn’t be complete. Oh, I could write a story about your duality. How, charming or terrorising, you hold a monopoly over my fortunes, reactive: You command my heart and head. I could record it all, but instead I’m off to bed.