If only I could turn my poetry into song,
If only I could sing along
With the tune I make in my own head.
If only I could fight sight and the need to tighten
My inability to hold a tune.
Can the stars blink without my eyes to watch them twinkle,
Or do they fade away into the darkness,
The abyss of the universe,
To get lost in the arms of an extraordinary phenomena...
Yet to be discovered
By the nauseating minds of a civilized university
Of dwelling, drooping, drawling individuals?
What is the meaning of a harmless kiss? And if it was so harmless, should it feel as bad as this?
If I could take back that moment of tickling tongues and rogue rashes,
Would I feel as good as the sting of this rejection?
Would I find the meaning of life's perfection?
Would I long to touch, to hold, to savor
The one twisted, long twine of ruthless abandon
I felt when you kissed me, as a favor?
Could I clutch onto my mother's skirts forever, and follow the comfort
Into the arms of heaven?
Can I believe in this goddamn faith that my siblings are my first children?
Can I hang onto the thread, the semblance, of the unusual, the ordinary, the taste of my own knowledge?
Should I share the love I don't have or distribute it to those who do? Do I keep knocking on your hypothetical door till you find the time to sing to me that you love me true?
Should I, must I, can I believe the sweet lies whispered to me on a hot summer's night? Would it taint my naivety or make me fight
For what's real, what's not and what's right?
Can I take back words I've never uttered? Just in case you heard them, just a little flutter.
Because these alphabets I string together in different ways always end up meaning the same thing.
They intertwine in various patterns to find their own meaning, hoping to be different than the rest, hoping to never have to ask again
"When are you going to wash out that clusterfuck of love's stain?"