Dearest, sweetest, oh the loveliest-
the lack of pen; it is not a tale of a love subdued
waiting for the scholars to still define you.
Your frame, the way your words seem to glide-
through my ears, icing my soul and persuading my heart not to die.
There is no other to the feeling of your fingertips dancing on my spine;
I think of no worry, I think of no darkness – hell, there is no time.
The lighthouse, the candle, the sun, the torch, the glow-
how you encompass all this, a mystery a heart will never know.
There is no sweeter thing that the just because,
a love that begs no reason,
a love that abides by no days or time,
our love is just because-
no orchestration in a love sublime.
This savage tongue, my barbaric tone-
your expense and my decadence,
when all there is are roads and buildings.
You’re cultured, you’re designing the curve-
and we’re all leeches on your world.
Backwards in time, deprived of intelligent mind-
the same species yet a less important kind,
we share a flag you know.
I’m uneducated, destined for the dole-
and you’re all playing a more important role.
I’m all foreign, from particulars to origin-
well, at least I’m not trying to not be boring,
but are you what you are?
The bittersweet life of hipster imitation-
constantly digging for something unique in your faking.
You can’t educate me on what I already know-
from the drug raids to the food banks,
you have never ventured, what does that show?
I acknowledge my life doesn’t always get it right-
but thankfully it doesn’t revolve around hashtags,
filters, emoji’s and building a life fit for a website.
She’s hell of a girl, she’ll take you to that extent-
where your kneecaps become all bent and your eyes
turn to liquid and you can’t stick your tongue out fast enough.
Your mind is an ice-rink and she’s eager to butterfly-
her thumb will get itself comfortable on your forehead,
jeer your mates goodbye.
Sometimes you’ll meet yourself at the bottom of the bottle-
where your elbows become all crooked and your mouth
turns to a serpent and you can’t bite your tongue fast enough.
You’re hell of a boy, you’ll take her to the extent-
where her hips become all bent and her eyes
turn to drops of rain and you can’t reach out fast enough.
Sometimes she will catch herself dashing towards the door-
leaving a note, saying she won’t take it anymore.
Her mouth turns to ashes and her body loses its frame,
she becomes the serpent and slips her love away.