the memories we choose to recall
are well crafted highly polished and corrected
lenses focused on our unfiltered nature
darling—you’re smiling
quirky
cute
wonderful
you
and I was beaming purple and blue
the worst curse
would be to be
forced to recall
only good memories
for the rest of
your worthless life
I want the title to feel like the religious conviction that an ardent angel’s punishment is being cutoff from god’s love. If it’s doctrine somewhere it should already be labeled—I can’t find it. It’s up to you to swoop in and save the day.
It would be fun to create and share a metaphor of time.
You is fucked until the day you die.
Could we make poetry together
I mean nigger
motherfucker
cunt
and the other
are we compatible in that
words flow on a sunny day
motherfucker fuck
in that way words flow. ?