Come on, it’s not that hard
“Her eyes like the sun, scorching like Hell”
Not very good.
Come on, put something down
“His hands like velvet, choking me”
Not much better.
Come on, poets do this everyday
When I try to write the words
I don’t know what to say
I could languish away
Never quenched by the poet’s water
Cascading, flowing, gushing, vomiting
Into a dry savannah
I could starve to death
Never satisfied by the poet’s love
The incandescent touch that
Grates and chafes
Write me something beautiful and revolting
Something appealing yet grotesque
Write, about anything.
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