i like poetry

I like poetry.

Sometimes my tears taste like salt, you see.

Do they always taste like that?

Do tears of joy taste like cotton candy?

Tears of despair, do they taste like the bitter wound within?

I like poetry.

But sometimes, I refuse to rhyme.

I’m sick of the rules which means that I may not clap in time.

I’m tired of the quickened beats that mean I cannot take a seat.

I’m a hardened criminal.

Born to break every rule.

But…

I like poetry.

I like the way you tell me your heartbreak story.

In one page or less...

I’ve laughed, cried and held onto your glory.

Woop! Woop!

You did it. You turned her into a story.

Isn’t that always the way to write her out of your heart, move on...

no more worry?

Yes, I like poetry.

Capsized ships become wholehearted mansions.

Waves and sunsets become the class cliches.

Dancers are always sad or giddy.

It’s true we have to use some sort of creativity.

The blank page ain’t gonna write its own sachet expansions.

Poetry. Do you like me?

Only when I’m on the perfect line?

Do you like when I cannot rhyme?

Do you like me when my stanzas don’t match?

Do you like me when the rhythm doesn’t catch?

Poetry, my sweetie.

Is there ever a time when someone didn’t say “What?”

Was there ever a moment when the awe just sat?

Was there ever a time a friend didn’t snap in response to your self-introduction?

Too many words?

Not enough diversification?

Spelling is a problem.

Don’t worry. This isn’t multiplication.

Stop doing it like that.

Don’t tell it that way.

O Poetry, do you like me too?

I like poetry.

But…

I’m afraid I can’t please everybody.

Sometimes we relate, and other times we hesitate.

I just don’t get it.

Neither do I.

Do your tears taste like salt too?

Even the tears of joy?

Give it a shot.

Go on.

I like poetry.

But…

But you, maybe not?