I want to be your pillow case,
your- basket case,
but I'm just your comic wannabe.
I want to be your coaster,
all your drinks are on me,
and I'll be your bath water,
if you agree to be my toaster.
I want to be your tip toe sole,
up to your lips, so tangible,
I want to checkmate your soul,
or at least be a pawn in your put away army.
I want to be a worm,
to send a shiver up your spine,
and once interred into my home,
your sinews will be mine to dine on all alone!
I'm your comic wannabe,
and I want to be more
your kind of appeal
more your heart string sing-
song kind of strong.
I want to be the real me,
not your comic wannabe.
YOU ARE READING
Thresheld
PoetryMy life is a series of thresholds that I overcome through poetry. Love, loss, pain, regret, humor, irony, word play, and even sarcasm are as much apart of my life as they are central to my poems here. I am Thresheld. UPDATE: It's been quite a few ye...