THE F, DON'T READ THIS POEM

When we met, the condition was perfect, it wasn’t raining but the sun was shy, it wasn’t cloudy but fucking bears could’ve bounced around playing hide and seek, the temperature gave me the same feeling when dragging those post coital cigarettes, it was real but yet bizarre, the condition was perfect and that was when we met.

Your eyes, they reminded me of the African savannah and as I travel through it I reached your heart and in your heart the wild fucking animals are fucking racing, like pros, I was staring. Your timing was perfect, you felt I was staring and your eyes, your sorrow wandering eyes, they caught my eyes, we froze, we stood there like statues made of clay, meant to be stoic. It was so dramatic.

When our retinal coordination fell into place. I felt you were looking right through me. It was painful yet delightful, wrong, yet, well wrong wass good, felt as if my soul was pierced with inanimate stuff like the freakin TV with all its HD wonders which works the same like those horse tranquilisers just to be specific.  It was so eclectic, I’m sorry, electric. You are electric.

Just like how things work in the universe, the logical sequence of events, the chain of causality, it was predictable, it made sense, we met, we locked eyes and we needed to then say something, fuck just say anything, and that is when I saw your mouth started coordinating movements, I noticed your arms, perpendicular but my focus was your mouth so fuck your arms. I imagined your lips, your kissable lips, locking lips can wait because now, it wanted to say something, of course it wanted to, would I understand? I didn’t think it mattered but I did understand, that was when you said,

“You might think you sound like a poet but you actually sound like an idiot.”

THE END.