you, my dear,
is a catalyst for bad love poems,
drunken stuper thoughts of babbling brooks
of the subconscious

an avatar in a midnight game
of what-ifs and shoulda/coulda/wouldas

a reason for unexplained bursts of expletives
in a form of inapporpriate hand gestures

you are a reason why my non-smoker ass smokes
to feel the tingle and burn with each inhale
alive
and a reminder that death is near

you're my impulse to wanting to jump
the last spark felt in tail bones
resonating from the twitch of something
resembling bravery

you are the reason why i feel girly

you are my inspiration in writing bad poetry

words in which i never intend to share


kinda like the words describing what i feel for you.

bastard.