Poetariat

I fucking love you.

There I said it,

and it was far from hard.

How this happened is beyond me,

and frankly I don’t give a shit.

The truth is,

simply stated,

I fucking love you.

Now deal with it.

You sent me flowers.

Bright with purple,

sent with love

and

hope for our future.

I only pray that each petal

of the bouquet will not

outlast our days together.

I also hope that the reason

behind the delivery of such a gift

will never happen again;

for my heart are as

delicate as these petals.

Despite the thousands of miles

that separate us,

I imagine myself

next to you

as the last few minutes

countdown to zero.

I am praying that

the men

in green

win.

from a chance meeting / comes a love so strong and true / here’s to years with you

Set my heart afire With your enchanted ways, Which are always poorly mimicked By amateurs who’d wish They had just a tad of your art To make a woman swoon.

Cold snow in my soul

which wilt your precious petals

No longer your spring

to see you like that /
images burnt in my mind /
not the you i love

is there really more to say?
so simple
so true

Thousands of

miles may

separate us,

but

you are closer than

ever before as

my thoughts

dance about

you

and my heart

rejoices, 

just knowing

that the

feeling

is

mutual.

Every time

you read

those infamous words

of that peculiar

poet, I begin

to want to

kiss you

away,

because I too,

am

always

thinking

about

it.