Loveofwriting
Learn more about other poetry terms
So these words
messy messy words
get combobbled in my head.
Screwed around with
tossing and turning like
they're on a high seas adventure
of epic porportions.
And some can't hold on
I'm busy.
But the words are begging to be free.
I'm tired,
But the emotions won't leave me.
I know
I must give vent somehow.
I sit.
The writing begins, now.
They never saw it coming,
there was just the quiet before the storm.
A call was made to their home,
their mother answered the phone.
Then the emotional storm started.
There was nothing more between us
But some pleasant conversation
Though when you looked right at me
My heart had palpitations
My heart had opened up
For love (to come from you)
How bizarre is it for one
To sit on their hardwood bedroom floor, black ink bleeding from their pen onto lined college ruled paper?
She never liked words, she never liked reading, and books were her ennui.
