Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

I also found a cheesy poem I wrote.

For you, holy flower, so sickeningly sweet-
I’ve beget my glory, I’ve a new man – become.
Pumped by my heart throughout – down to their capillarian roots,
A breathe of your scent is warmth within my lungs.

Oh how my fingertips wish to become feeble instruments of flattering angels;
producing tiny ripples upon thy porcelain skin.
Cursed by an affection so sequestered, so tangible.
Yet to break my focus from upon thine eyes – I’d be the most foolish of men.

They say that you, my flower, drape your sins in fields of white cotton.
They say my love for you holds no truer sorrow.
They say this warmth within my lungs is but a reddish haze – soon to be forgotten.
A hopeless romantic’s path I march, a brow beaten hope for a better tomorrow.

But you, my flower, crushing in your presence-
Produce a sensation known only to the ever-tightening prevalence withing my chest.
An elation worthy of ten thousand years persistence.
I’d feign friendship, liquor, laughter, rest.

If it were, that confidence in love could be learned from a book- then a thousand books I’d read.
I’d learn from their pages to cast myself in your eyes through the sweetness of lover’s lens.
You lips – my lips, your hands – my hands, your devotion – my creed.
Without you, my darling flower, my life would exist as a means to an end.

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One Comment on “I also found a cheesy poem I wrote.”

  1. A. says:

    damn, that’s some good cheese.


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