Poemetry: The Things I Could Not Say

Cute? No, you are not cute.

Cute is a child catching fireflies

Cute is a puppy chewing on a shoe.

To call you cute would be a dire lie;

you are gorgeous, enchanting, alluring;

a beauty and artistry enduring.

With a smile and a glance,

you blush the roses and polish the stars,

with a word, you entrance

my spirit and heart.

My God — my God! — if you could only see

 yourself with my eyes,

perhaps you would agree,

that you are not cute, that damnable lie,

you are brilliant, bright, dazzling, and delightful

resplendent, refulgent, oh so insightful,

and perhaps you could see, always for me,

that you are not cute but personified beauty.


4 thoughts on “Poemetry: The Things I Could Not Say

    • christiankello says:

      Hah. The heart is a foolish thing that dreams in lies and accursed fantasy, dismantles sense, and explodes the senses with insanity. A muse does the fingers well but ills the soul. And by the last two sentences, I dare say that madness has me in a stranglehold. Haha.

      Edit: did I just write poetry in a reply on my own poem? 😐


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