I wrote this for some girl a long time ago--and I gave it to her and I don't think she ever really appreciated it.
It's still a really good poem though--and I even cock-block one of my friends in it with because he was too cheap to buy this girl roses...live and learn, right?
It's a wary circle, this dance,
this trope you and I both know
well, like deadly adversaries
waiting for who will flinch first:
we won't promise us anything ( I think...)
I tried to warn you about carnations,
the flowers of funerals will bare
you; being a lotus, you know
how to be strange. Further, I am
flush in the green of your scrutiny,
but you still won't promise me you'll stay...
each second our eyes tractor tight,
I molt like a candle, so much closer
to leaving behind my life of crime,
to bask in your tropical prospect
as you brool all about my chest-
I want to blame you for this infirmity,
my vulcanized explosions, the erupting
volcanoes that encode all my creations
like a singular verity I'm forbidden
mention; because you already know...
my frustration, the puzzle I witness,
I gave it to you, like a maze, attempting
to instill vim to your vigor, eagerly
I still gaze skyward, I wish to challenge
you to a secret sortie for just us to play;
I just want to seem lame to all the rest
but in this forberie you will feel prurient
the coals are white hot in my forge-
perhaps you will pang with intrigue
beyond the sparks I tease over you erotic,
perhaps not. Know this: we are direct
current, all that is polarity and science
indicates collisions are sill most eminent.
© 2008 Steve Ekstrom
Causes Steven Ekstrom Supports
The HERO Initative