I'll Send You 100 Letters That I Haven't Quite Written Yet
you left me,
with no place to develop,
no sanctuary to grow,
with the anticipation that this vulnerable state would burn me out,
for mere pennies I'll sell my soul,
my mind's imprisonment deeper than a red rose,
passions that align perpendicular to an ocean's horizon,
blinded and perplexed by you,
tormented by the absence,
accused of being narrowed-minded,
my best apology forced me to make you analogous to tall green trees,
our lost love,
the second analogy,
you strip me bare of metaphor and simile and color, of anything,
the music and tears,
the poetry,
you stripped me,
you stripped me of everything,
but maybe this first letter,
yes, this first (weak) letter,
provides you with the symmetry I still desperately need...
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
