Interpretation

It's not your fault your talk
never found a fondness
for words,
I'm the "supposed writer"-

I should have penned something
beyond the ink

Language has no skeleton,
it can quickly take shape of any form,
perhaps lightening bolts
that somewhat resemble
j
..a....l
g........i
..g....n
e........e
..d....s (our love always seems to be threatening thunder)

I could have rolled letters off my tongue
and watched them scatter about, like critters
to their befitting nook
in my poetry

I ate the alphabet as a child,
you chewed numbers
and spit out black on white,
never blending the two

I prefer to think
in color,
if only I could adorn your logic
with a more prismatic hue