You dreamt of cerulean
It could've been so simple
But you insisted on azure and aquamarine,
Cobalt when
Blue would've done just
Fine.
But that's what love is, sometimes.
Silly girl, you
Had to go fall in love with paper
Instead of boys.
There's a place where their stomach juts in a 'v'
Down below the line of their belt.
(It's a mystery what happens below that)
That's what you were supposed to
Swoon over.
But instead you fell in love with the mysteries
That you knew how to solve.
Books open you up,
Go deeper inside you, than boys could (they tell you different, but you doubt it).
Books, at least, ask before taking and
Offer to take you with.
And by the end you're ravished and torn and only halfway mended but
At least books know
How to give you a resolution.
Girls like you
Should learn to keep a clean mouth.
Who taught you words like
'Penultimate' and 'palimpsest?'
Those words are too long for
A girl like you.
There are longer things you should be
Concerning yourself with:
Boys, and related items.
Look up love in the dictionary
Or something.
It'll tell you the truth
But not the whole truth. Dictionaries
Tend
To lie by omission.
Who will love you the way
Paper does? And
Won't be satisfied
When you call your eyes blue.
Someone else is dreaming of
Cerulean and sapphire.
They'll use words like
'Hyacinthine' and 'cyaneous' for you.
Lovers have dirty mouths.
