It is easy to forget that wine is a poison
and hard to pinpoint the truth in the lie
I was unforgivable during the best of times
and the best of times have all passed by.
I have checked and reviewed your arithmetic
and agree, our hate is mathematically sound,
if by chance we should meet in the hallways
I would scream. But I ache to be found.
I’m not sure what to make of your poetry.
What do you call your brand of poesy?
It’s hard to really define a style right now, as I’ve largely been writing things experimentally this year.
It’s mostly been about figuring out what I like to write and getting away from my older habits of strict structure and old poetic imagery…and getting in the habit of writing every day.