I am the poet;
the one that ran from the rhymes
because happiness dared
slam into my vital tissue
and waited
to wind the rhymes around
a strip of road kill thrown
artfully across the pavement
so I
could extract the exact amount
of beauty posed by the creature
to calm my damned creative itch.
This poem is both beautiful
This poem is both beautiful and eerie, succinct and, in the backstory it suggests, profound; and I really, really like it.
J-Called
my favorite
I poet like that - I "...ran from the he rhymes"