A little over a year ago, I spilt a bunch of angry words and dignified them with the title: ‘Angry poems about you’.
I’m all about playing with your mind, see?
And now, so you know I’m not all pissiness and mutterage, here’s something less virulent, more bewildering and just as unpoetic.
Written on a cold late December day, for Duck.
Be kind
Tread gently
My heart’s still tender from the arm you lent me last night.
Creepy me
So, when you look back
Twice not once
Are you reassured I’m watching you as you go?
Your lips
They tease and they please
Keep talking, I’m watching.
Cruel me
Those times when I’ve said that you’re vain
And pretended I can’t hear what you say
When I’ve taunted you till you’re close to tears
And acted like I don’t care that you’re here
I’m actually fighting this crazy-ass fear
Of being complete-farkin’-ly undone.
If
I were a poet
I’d say this eloquently enough
I think you’re the shit, duck.
Fuck me, I think I’m in love.
I’m all about playing with your mind, see?
And now, so you know I’m not all pissiness and mutterage, here’s something less virulent, more bewildering and just as unpoetic.
Written on a cold late December day, for Duck.
Be kind
Tread gently
My heart’s still tender from the arm you lent me last night.
Creepy me
So, when you look back
Twice not once
Are you reassured I’m watching you as you go?
Your lips
They tease and they please
Keep talking, I’m watching.
Cruel me
Those times when I’ve said that you’re vain
And pretended I can’t hear what you say
When I’ve taunted you till you’re close to tears
And acted like I don’t care that you’re here
I’m actually fighting this crazy-ass fear
Of being complete-farkin’-ly undone.
If
I were a poet
I’d say this eloquently enough
I think you’re the shit, duck.
Fuck me, I think I’m in love.
