Bend me break me Breaking down is easy All I want is your words, Mysteries of our disguise revolve Circumstance will decide Nobody loves me It's true Not like you do, sonnets of faith and devotion, sweet not sour though
I really like the core of this, for it is the best of feelings to be dragged under the current, one’s consciousness held for ransom in such a powerful way when reading prose, be it poetic or fictional.
Doesn’t that strike you like someone who knows all your trigger points? We read em’ sure. We read every last word start to end again, and again. Alright I’m not telling it straight.
The truth is no loves your poems the same way that they love
the way your poems get them feeling.
Yes, they love the way you write it out of them,
how it drags them under the current,
and holds their consciousness for ransom!
How could they love your poems as much; When that feeling they get comes shooting from their viscerals roaring like a migration of butterflies, and birds, and bees bursting from the back of their throat – They’ve just got to fly
There is no time to stop and love your poems the way they must go out and catch every last winged creature that spewed forth into the wide opened mouth of the sky
No one loves your…
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