Lovely

Taking creative writing classes means that you have to write outside of your typical style. It's the prof's job to make you try new things, understandably, how else will you grow? This poem was originally a sonnet for an assignment, meaning that it had to rhyme, and it had to be in iambic pentameter.

It sucked. Utterly.
But in free verse, I really really like it. Lovely.


Lovely

My hand
rests
so that my cold fingertips
are pressed
against your beautiful pink
mouth
damming the flow of words behind your lips
causing the soft phrases
to well up behind your pale
pale green eyes.

It’s not that I hate your words.

(I’ve felt them run
over my body before, like
steaming waters
from Hell
warm and cursed)

But

that I can’t handle the joyful
sounds of your voice…
the melody of your thoughts is such a pretty thing
I have found.

So don’t speak until my jealousy stops
for I want
your lovely voice
but for my ears alone.