Poetry is the lines that coincide with the times that my mind has lived, but forgotten to define.
It is that moment that my lips can taste the wine, before it is drank, before my head is sublime.
Poetry is the memories I have set aside, only to come back to when I feel like traveling though time.
It is that day my body felt rich and refined, only to later learn my soul's credit card was declined.
Poetry is ten fingers intertwined from different classes of swine, and the smile on my face, even though neither hand is mine.
It is the empty bottle on my floor, a personal shrine. I pray with it everynight, it's powers divine.
Poetry is goodness, and my motives are online. Poetry is the beauty of that relationship combined.
It is what happens when the pen meets my mind. Poetry is the ink in my body, and the papers are what I design.
