i am constantly
amazed at the deft
way she spins word
as i bludgeon my way
through another
meaningless poem
no silver needle
glinting in the
decaying light as i
try to hobble together
a single thought
pedantic with an
over reliance on
profanity leaves my
words a mud puddle
on a gas station lot
while she drowns me
in an ocean of beauty
i am pollock with
a mouthful of garish
unwanted shades while
she is monet with her
palette of perfections
i spit and sputter
as she effortlessly
flows across the page
my pain an angry worded
diatribe spewed with
no sense of decorum
she pens on vellum
a calligrapher with
no errant quill strokes
i fell madly in love
with the poet beneath
before the wildflowers
took root in her smile
now i shudder happily
in her simple majesty
a fool gazing adoringly
at beauty given form


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