When inspiration hits, when that graceful muse comes down and touches you, you just have to make use of it. I wrote the following poem on my arm with a pen I found in my seat cushion while I was driving home from Easton today. When inspiration hits, sometimes you just have to make use of it. I hope you enjoy it, its currently untitled.
When we first met you were just so…
You weren’t perfect yet but you were just so…
I’d never seen someone quite like you and inside it felt just so…
Just so warm, just so safe, just so perfect.
I was home.
When you found me I was just so…
I wasn’t even here, I was just so…
My heart had been broken and it felt just so…
Just so cold, just so scared, just so broken.
You made me whole.
And when you left me it was just so…
Where did it come from? It was just so…
And what could I do? I was just so…
Just so fucked, just so fucking fucked, just so god damn fucking fucked.
Fuck.
I like all except the end..I get it, but I think I would still like some imagery or something.
ReplyDeleteYeah, I understand but I was actually going for that lack of imagery. The end is supposed to be unpleasant and kind of jarring. It should be a sudden and obvious departure from the rest of the poem.
ReplyDeleteAlso I wrote it on my arm while driving in a car so give me a break if its not as pretty as it could be.