POEM: Romantic Poet


I never thought I’d be

A romantic poet

The kind of person

Who spends their besotted hours

Mixing honey and blood

Into his words of

Love and rapture

Suffering and solace

My heart no longer has

A safety-on button

Like an over-sensitive bear trap

It snaps shut

At even the slightest whisper

Of yearning on the wind

Dipping my quill

Into the ink of longing

And fabricating parchment

From the flayed skin

Of my own absurdist fantasies

I have come to understand

Leonard Cohen

More than I ever hoped

And a single word of Rumi

Can leave me drunk and irresponsible

For days

What can one do in life

With a hair-trigger heart like this?

But I guess I always knew

I was destined to be

Another romantic poet



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