i’ve never really been
into poetry and stuff like that
because all i’ve seen about it is really pretentious
and all the poetry i’ve heard of
is always something like
Falling off a cliff
Tumbling to your feet
Grasping at your legs
Begging for one more… chance?
see? i don’t know how to write poetry
but it’s always like that
all flowery and in-love and that kinda stuff
but i’ve never really been into love
and i’m kinda jealous, in a way,
because i see it happening so naturally to others
to the point where they get into fights
all hinged on their relationship
and i’m sitting over here like
“bro i don’t know what’s going on
but it doesn’t sound good”
and they communicate their feelings
through poetry. like,
The words that flow off your pomegranate lips
Are tangy, sweet, then sour
You cut me with your passion
Then crushed me with lemon when I was most vulnerable.
like dude. i’m not that into fruit either.
i really don’t know what you’re trying to say.
but then they try to communicate it in another way
like in some kinda script form,
acting out their feelings on stage
putting on some mask
and hoping that the other person gets it?
i’ve read a few scripts
but they sure didn’t read like
MY FRIEND sits down at the table where THEIR SIGNIFICANT OTHER is already sitting.
Why don’t you like the movies I like?
THEIR SIGNIFICANT OTHER
Why do you never look at me when we have sex?
because obviously that’s not how people interact.
all the stories i’ve heard
are always some dramatic, life-changing thing
like, have you never heard of casual interaction?
it’s always going from zero to a hundred
like you’re stepping on a pedal
grappling with the idea of loving-hating this person
falling in love and falling off a cliff
you told me you’d swear off self-destruction
then swore to love them forever
and yet you use excuses like
“red flags just look like flags
when you’re wearing rose-colored glasses.”
but you knew i could’ve taken off those glasses for you
and of course those glasses are a metaphor
for the cracked spiderweb glasses you put on me
but i never knew that
because you only told me through poetics
i still can’t understand, have you no shame?
kinks are reserved for the bedroom
and i don’t consent to participate in your rhetoric fetish
your ideas aren’t seducing me
i think i understand poetry.