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A Not-Love Poem[What the stars tossed, salt-casual, onto the not-black of the not-night suggest could be love, but I can't read them.]A Not-Love Poem
This is not a love poem, not-love, a not-love poem.
Falling waist deep into February stomping the signatures of lost years in footprints on the pristine present- this, not-night has become electric with memories smashing through the thin ice of teenage alchemy, charged, with the possibility of heartache,
by ~justaphase
THREE DAYS FROM NOWfor Daniela Jara's 20th birthday on 6.21.04THREE DAYS FROM NOW
three days from now she will rise up to the playground of angels fighter jets and zeppelins burst open the door translate her body into an equation of one–hundred twenty pounds moving nine–point–eight meters per second per second and tumble from heaven because she wants to taste the sky on her birthday
this is the part of the poem where I should drop metaphors about falling in love with her or how she's already fallen from heaven once or something about shooting stars or glass ceilings
by ~foxthepoet
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- Favourite movie: Children of Men
- Favourite style of art: Film
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- Personal Quote: Everything is the truth and everything's a lie.
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