| what does poetry taste like? |
Drip, drip, drip - - - -
Words trickle down the white like
Shrubs holding on to the jagged edges of the crevice,
{We defy gravity, they gloat}
And fireflies nestle on the curves of each letter-
The curve of p, the surface of o, the jagged end of e,
The turn of t, the spin of r and the sharp turn of y,
[poetry]
And it’s almost like everything is dandelions&dreams,
Before we snap back into reality- - - -
Left with the lingering taste of surreality
