PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It was a twenty-first century coincidence;

I always knew I wouldn't fit

into your tiny jar of perfection.



Trying to win you over

is romancing the stoned

with half the reaction and twice the stimulation.

But you don't want happiness

unless it molds into the tiny capsules

you like to call life.



I could blush like a desert rose

and see if you run barefoot

across the smoldering hot sands

to wash away the mirage,



but those impractical ideals

are always a day late

and a dollar short of reality,



a twenty-first century coincidence

buttered with a pinch of irony;



I always knew you couldn't bottle perfection.