Romantic
Isn't it romantic
how the chrysalids land on the ice cubes
in our drink to wink
with sunlight and time
for the dawning double blind
Isn't it romantic
how wings unborn
are worn to be torn
from our aesthetic interpretation
Isn't it romantic
that we should be so kind as to blind
as to bind each other
belieing bespeak betraying
Isn't it romantic
that we should drink such potion to spite
foreknowledge of death
innate insecurity feigning
Isn't it romantic
how the oils shift smudge to smear coupling
seething suppling searing
precious delicate contours
How I miss your words
tender as tobacco
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poem by Randy Resh
Added by Poetry Lover
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