The near rhymes are deceptive

And the imagery is conjecture

The meter is asynchronous

The spondees anodonturous

.

Rhyme schemes, as you can see

Don't take it where it needs to be

It blossoms eruptively

Eructations in hyperbole

.

Onomatopoeia is overrated

When scratching is exaggerated

And Saturn rings untrue—ass'onance

Long after Uranus don't, for us

.

Love and hate and nature and me

Evade when, I don't think, I'll ever see

Anything as lovely as my overstay

Contrasting to thou summer's day

.

I rest my case as I rest my pen

I can write anything as best I can

And should my words find some purpose

Or end up ugly when it finds lips' purchase?

.

This is my near-poem of near-rhyme near you

Whether t'is nothing much and, of that, much ado

Whether nearly misjudged but, for me, course par

Whether you feel me coming, close, but no cigar

it's all poetry

most never captured

recorded written out

how could it be

life gushing out splashing

from a wellspring beyond

it doesn't come from you

limitations acknowledged

but through you

Step 1: Fall in love.

Hard. Publicly.

Like a clumsy waiter with a tray full of wine glasses.

Except they’re filled with your self-worth.

Ignore the almost-cute red flags.

Chalk it up to charm.

Call it fate anyway.

Repeat it to your friends until they stop asking how it’s going.

Step 2: Watch it unravel.

Slow at first. Then fast.

Like a sweater snagged on a doorknob

in the middle of a goodbye hug.

You’ll think it’s salvageable. It isn’t.

She’ll say “I just need space.” You’ll give her

astronomical units.

Step 3: Keep the receipts.

The movie stubs. The text that said “You get me.”

The bottle of lotion that still smells like the night

you both cried during that Pixar film.

Memory hoards like a raccoon.

You’ll keep the Spotify playlist

even though it now feels like slow self-harm.

Step 4: Find a metaphor in her toothbrush.

It’s pink. It’s frayed. It leans slightly to the left

just like her politics.

You brush with it once. Just a quick swipe.

Then tell yourself you didn’t.

Step 5: Bleed lines until it no longer hurts.

Sit at your desk like a medieval scribe of heartbreak,

dipping pain in ink. Or maybe coffee. Or wine.

(You’re not sure anymore. Doesn’t matter.)

Replace therapy with revisions.

Replace closure with cleverness.

You’re not healed, but at least

you’re publishable.

you thought

it was a forever

kind of love,

that you would

do all the things

that people do

when they see

eternity

in the eyes

of that

someone

who makes them

feel

whole

though

they never

knew they were

incomplete

before;

no,

not until

after

do you recognize

the empty

hollow

space,

the excruciating

loss.

and so,

you write

to fill the void

dam the tears

dull the ache;

you write

to remember,

but especially,

to forget.

With ease I take pen to paper,

I think prose is in my DNA,

that words flow freely by hand.

I can crank out page after page each day.

I believe I’m saturated with talent,

all my compositions are profound.

I never have writer’s block

and always leave the readers spellbound.

But when my self-worth becomes over inflated,

when I feel on par with the Bard,

I reread my adolescent break-up poems written long ago,

and am humbled while my current ego gets charred.

A blank page with colors that melt and spread in my mind.

A wordless melody,my pen tapping downward in a sporadic design.

The ink hesitates,and comes up for refreshed air.

My nameless title awakens within,my final destination unclear.

I begin to pick up rhythm, thoughts emerging as I near the finished line.

I blindly look back at the point of no return,retracing the pulsating rhyme.

Perfect partners in crime

If felt like a fairy tale

There wasnt a moment

That immense love didnt fill

There were no chinks in the armor

Through their gate nothing could pass

They held each other tightly

Through each siege they'd stand steadfast

It was all sunshine and rainbows

It was all pleasantries

It was comfort and compassion

That was all there was to see

They kissed each other tenderly

As the waves of life rocked the ship

Again and again plowing ahead

With just the pressure of their lips

They were cherished companions

And each others safety line

Pulled each other out of fires

Always just in the nick of time

They were pieces of a puzzle

They fit together perfectly

They lived in unison

Their breathing a harmony

Still gave each other butterflies

Stomachs fluttered to knots

It was love above all

Until it stopped

Two peas in a pod

Any closer they could not be

But what happened on that one day

Someone starts singing out of key

Do alarms sound and a crew rush

Is there a voice shouting please save me

Or do they watch the bow go under

And lament synchronicity

Did it start slow one day

She told a joke and he didnt laugh

Was it all downhill from there

Or were there good days after that

Did he finally hear enough

Of her little lip suck sound

Was the shore still in sight

Or did they know they would drown

It all came tumbling at once

At least thats what it seemed

Polaroids of perfection

But the full picture eyes cant see