She romanced you
with vowels and consonants
and carefully placed punctuation,
and sometimes a complete lack of it,
which doesn’t mean she didn’t love you that day,
just that she was giving you room to decide.
She dredged up impossible rhymes,
to avoid whispering your name and
those three little words,
and shunned similes
(nothing that pedestrian
should be associated with you).
Instead, her lust was confessed
through ellipses
that left so much to the imagination
but you rubbed them out and stuck
periods at the end of every line.

This entry was posted in Agony and Ecstacy, Life, Love, Poetry, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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