June 19, 2011
By Anonymous

Whisper the words not meant for their ears
I appreciate the proximity, dear
Accidental rhymes serenade me
I’m always the one doing the singing
And you the ignoring
Won’t you be my pianist, boy?
Harmonies too sweet, too prophetic
Bitten tears and black and white visions
Little boys and their favorite pretty girls
Eyeliner and messy hair never hurt a soul
Absence does make other hearts grow fonder
I’m still alone
These mysteries fuel my late night songwriting
Silly, silly, silly girl I am
Could you be my silly, silly, silly boy?
Take an ear for my flirting, please
And go along with my scripted plan
A particular and genuine kind of charades
Could it be that out thoughts intersect?
And in some twisted reverse psychology
‘Twould be the same for you
That’s the medieval talk
The Shakespearean romances I read
That’s the music playing
The bad romance a lady called GaGa told me
That’s the twelve a.m. clock
Glaring at me with softened eyes
It wants you too
Like a fish don’t need a bike
I don’t need you
Million line stanza, take me to sleep
And mend my torn eyelashes
My poems can be singular thoughts
Singular ideas, singular dreams
Singular me

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