these days
Not like it is in a poem
More like a gun
with every chamber loaded
It’s not, odds are it won’t kill me
If you point it at someone
and pull the trigger,
they will bleed out in the street
Not like it is in poetry
when it just means
they fall for you
I don’t know
if that made sense
I am out
of my element
The muse returned
to my doorstep
A knock, knock, knock
in the middle
of the afternoon
And at first I thought I heard
true love softly calling me
but now I know
it was screaming
IF YOU STILL BELIEVE
IN LOVE
STOP KILLING US
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