Right on target
Aim is clear
I felt your eyes meet mine
Your mind leaked rhymes
All others couldn’t compare
See at first I never put 2 + 2
I should have known it was hopeless
I had everything to lose
Music and cider
Comforted by neither
I was just happy to be out
There was art surrounding me
Astounding me was the sound of skateboards
That echoed symphony
You and me
Was no surprise
Each time we locked eyes
I felt everything inside
Like a colourful dance
What do you call a 100 butterflies?
You had me
And I begged you to be sure
I didn’t need your loyalty to follow me to the soil
Just enough to keep me alive
Dead inside I know maths was neither our stong points
I try to dive into positivity and not dwell on the wrong points
That is all I see
Seeing all that we could have been
You let them all free
I hate poems about you
But you’re perfect poetry
Funny how the shots fired echoed like skateboards under tunnels
Holes leave me puzzled
As all you have ever told me escapes
With nearly half of what we had, passed
An unread message tells me your mind may leak rhymes once again
Or at least you’d like to remind me of these bullet holes
This is loyal to the soil?
Supine, staring at the sky, pasted with thick clouds covered by treetops
And wonder If you knew
You were never going to “win me by default”
I wish it wasn’t true
I have been set this impossible task
to find true love
and I’m such a loser
I thought I saw you.
Snipe Hunt: By extension, any hunt, search, or quest for something that is fictitious, non-existent, elusive, or illusory.
Group of butterflies: A collective name for a group of butterflies is called a ‘Kaleidoscope’.
Supine: Lying face upwards.