Character schemes:
i envy the poets i see
with no space left to write,
for in writing once
(talent or luck?)
they stumble upon the loveliest rhymes
plots of
one damsel in distress
black stars tattoed on her breasts, and
one bruised and angry
hercules
with questionable scars on his
god-like knees
and these poets with no blank
spaces in their notebooks,
find the perfect names;
as if tortured (their souls)
from thier graves
Scarlet and Damon
the monsters that Romeo and Juliet made them
to be.
i find solace in these poets and their dream
that 'love' is more than merely a scheme
chiseled from stone like Damon's knees
giving a taste of desire then
darkness.
leaving the most unsuspecting reader
(lover)
heartless.
Dear Reader,
Are we speaking of
love or poetry?
I find the two easily confused
as both leave their captives feeling
used.
left to die
with dry throats and
holes in the soles of their shoes.
but these poets whom i envy
they write until their
fingers bleed
and from long nights praying for
realization
they have the most scarred and beautiful knees :]
but (us) poets (you shall one day envy)
we drown in our hidden words alone
the word that we keep so desperately close.
the words that take us home..
