deepundergroundpoetry.com
Tiny muse.
I am a creator. Won’t you let me write you?
I promise not to ask twice, or at all,
for your paperweight heart, your inky brains.
You will be the clichéd sun, the moon, all at once.
The rose garden, the ocean, the only metaphor.
Immortalised in trails of blood and ink,
let me turn you into people you aren’t,
send you to places you’ve never been.
Let me dance with you,
steal the adjectives from just behind your eyes,
the stanzas of your lungs,
let me tear you word from limb.
You will be the greatest lie ever written,
with veins of ink and ichor
and no beauty in imperfection.
I promise not to ask twice, or at all,
for your paperweight heart, your inky brains.
You will be the clichéd sun, the moon, all at once.
The rose garden, the ocean, the only metaphor.
Immortalised in trails of blood and ink,
let me turn you into people you aren’t,
send you to places you’ve never been.
Let me dance with you,
steal the adjectives from just behind your eyes,
the stanzas of your lungs,
let me tear you word from limb.
You will be the greatest lie ever written,
with veins of ink and ichor
and no beauty in imperfection.
Published 2nd Dec 2012
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Anonymous
- Edited 15th May 2018 9:39pm
2nd Dec 2012 6:47am
<< post removed >>
2nd Dec 2012 8:41am
Anonymous
2nd Dec 2012 3:35pm
Agree with GreenDragon, the intensity in this piece is fantastic. Each stanza is as compelling as the next, feeding nicely into the whole.
11th Dec 2012 1:52am
13th Dec 2012 10:54pm
18th Apr 2013 2:39am