Peanut Butter & Soggy Bread
I can’t help but to look at her. She’s tangible and foments depravity within me. She’s nothing like me and everything I want to ignore. Our juxtaposition is only a myth. Her memories fog up windows that I sign my name in. I don’t understand her make up and I’ll always make fun of it. She’s horribly ugly. And there are forms of her that can only be seen through a black light. I’m afraid of her only because she taints your heart beat in ways I never could and I hear it every time I’m beside you. You write poetry about her and you aren’t even a writer. I see her idiosyncrasies spilling out of you and I don’t even know her eye color. Why her? She’s filled you up to the point you overflow. I don’t even know her. I don’t know her at all. But she must be something special.