what's not poetic about a syllable?
hanging on to every letter,
watching the upward,
and downward variation,
of your mildly crimson lips,
every halt,
every start,
is a different uncertainty,
every skip,
stutter,
flux,
is a coax,
odd gradients
twist,
and confuse,
they seduce,
perhaps queer,
in its zany humor.
syllables enveigle,
they're the genesis of perchance,
and watching one letter,
two,
three perhaps,
protrude from a movement,
is the most poetic thing to think about.
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YOU ARE READING
drown the stars
Poetry❝ just like relativity, we are only a theory ❞ • amateur writings of golden poetry • [cover by @antigravitea]
