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384

Can I write you every day? I don't know. A poem might be just two lines or it might be a lifetime.

It might be a confession or it might be a concession. It might be an ask or it might be a tell.

How would I know what these words want from me to ask of you?

How can I turn this thing into action? Suppress vulgar me and find salvation in transcendent you.

Is it the other way 'round? Maybe I'm the base and you're the acid I'm meant tone down.

Or I'm just another whore. And maybe, just maybe you're a proper locked door.

Can I write you every day? I don't know. A poem might be just two lines or it might be a lifetime. It might be a confession or it might be a concession. It might be an ask or it might be a tell. How would I know what these words want from me to ask of you? How can I turn this thing into action? Suppress vulgar me and find salvation in transcendent you. Is it the other way 'round? Maybe I'm the base and you're the acid I'm meant tone down. Or I'm just another whore. And maybe, just maybe you're a proper locked door.
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[–] • 0 pt

Admit your most overused adjective.

[–] • 1 pt

I've never been keen on repeating myself. I didn't get far in the slam poetry scene because I refused to write the same poem over and over with different words the way the slam devas did however, I've spent an embarrassing amount of time finding ways to not use the word "sweet".

Sweet smile? Welcoming lips. Sweet sorrow? Beckoning anguish. Sweet nothings? Empty whispers of passion. Sweet tea? Fucking disgusting.

[–] • 1 pt

Sweet, Faggot? Mo' like Minced Meat Maggot. Sweet, like an Apple, Fallen from a Tree, Cider to ferment, without Concession, nor Consent Fruits Drop without reason or Rhyme Niggaz like you accuse me of making Guacamole without a hint of Lime.