It’s no secret how the world and I regard each other,
the contempt is palpable,
I’m eternally in love with you
for making it go away, silencing the noise, the backbiting chatter,
that thing you do, putting the sun inside your eyes,
letting it rise and set in the skies of my face,
where the moon plays hide and seek
as she will. I need rocks of different colors, shapes, and textures to hold onto when I’m out in the stupid world without you.
And I don't care what you say:
it is a stupid world,
so stupid that it thinks
taxes are necessary.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.
Intertextuality is my passion.
Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.
My words are mine, not a robot’s.
MA English literature, CofC
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