Point – A Poem


Have I told you I hate the way
your mouth forms words?
How your lips thin when you speak?

Your honeyed words ever leave
a bitter aftertaste.

My teeth taste like steel.
Too much instant coffee.

Not a sworded tongue. I am not so clever.

your sentences
are a wearing gymnastic exercise.

I fear you shall never understand
there is no simpler task
of creation
no more beautifully
artistic accomplishment
then the


6 thoughts on “Point – A Poem

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