PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You want me to trade you poetry for songs when I know that your words could never know mine with respect

They are two parts of one whole cut in half to save your beauty from my ugly

You want me to trade you poems

And so I sit here pen to page unable to sleep

Searching for words to move your wind pipe

Tears to escape your eyes

But they are all mine

They fall to the floor like Dorothy Gale from her hotel room

Slowly growing larger till they crash upon the pavement of your frame

And still they find no rest

Their eyes are painted open staring right into me

‘He wants you to trade him poems…

Like he thinks you are soulful or something…

Like your reputation proceeds you…

Peter Rabbit you should have just gone home!’

But I snuck into the garden warring my best blue sweater and new brown shoes

Because he wants me to trade him poems

So I put on his CD and filter myself thinking anything will do

But there’s so much hope in his words… passion beyond the misery

He clearly writes colours this black ink could only outline

Still he wants to trade me poems

And I want to hear him sing

So I lay awake in sex stained sheets trying to pen him beauty from ink on paper

But all I can do is cover his purity with blackness