Rhyming with you

It’s better when things rhyme and I seem to rhyme with you.
This psychic something that we have is something too good to be true.

We don’t finish each others sentences, we speak perfectly in sync.
We feel each other’s feelings despite not knowing what we think.

It sounds like it should work well and it works out when we do
But when we can’t work out what’s not working out, we both just get confused.

Sometimes it’s almost eerie because we know it must be fate
And it’s harder to accept because we’ve known since our first date.

I know I’m feeling scared, so I know that you are too,
But I’m sure if we keep rhyming we can find our own way through.

In all of this emotion we might drive each other nuts
So let’s enjoy being distracted when we see each other’s butts.

Bad Poetry Saba · Rhyming With You

[07/06/21]

Ice sculpture

Sculpted from ice.
You touch me;
Shiver,
Recoil,
Reattempt.

Burn us both with your affectation of affection.
Warm flesh frostbit by my glacial edifice.

The momentary stayingness of your fingerprint to me.
You peel yourself away and I weep;
A single tear runs over my glassy sheen.
I melt,
In the intensity of this love.

This painful love
Scorches me to steam
And I begin to disappear.
Your most delicate breath
Breaks me
Into cold perspiration.
I puddle on the floor.
Wasting away in bright, burning love.
The glare is blinding.

I drip
Drip
Drip.
Melting.
Waiting to fracture entirely.
Knowing it’s inevitable.

Bad Poetry Saba · Ice Sculpture

[01/12/2020]

Dreamt him dead

I dreamt him dead.
Dreamt him into non-existence;
To his final resting place.

Imagined myself at his funeral–
Sobbing,
Distraught–
For one last time.
And him, finally at peace.

He always said he wanted to die.

I watched him unravel,
Desperately trying to catch the threads
Of navy sweaters.
I watched him unravel.
Spiral further away from me
Into his own little labyrinth.

Little dark one.

I dreamt him dead, with a smile on his face.
A smile I hadn’t seen in so long.
Finally there’s an end
And I have something
To grieve.

But I wake from the dream,
Him beside me.
The soft rise and fall of breath
In easy, quiet sleep.
I suffocate sobs of guilt,
Smother myself asleep again.

I wake up red-eyed in the morning.
He always wakes up angry.

Bad Poetry Saba · Dreamt Him Dead

[01/12/2020]

12/01/21

We didn’t just break;
We shattered.

Smashed irreparably into fragments.

I cannot conceive that time will grind
The shards of us to sand.

Zombies

Two cats

Two cats play piano;
Soft paws on ivory keys
Stumbling into unintentional melodies.
Whiskers tickle thick chords
As hammers hit hard harmonies.

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Thanks,
Saba

 

09/07/20

Subdued, I resolve:
I must savour you in morsels.

Failing,
I attempt to stem thin red tears
With the gentle graze
Of my serrated edge.

08/07/20

I know I must have been happy then.
And if I concentrate hard enough, I can almost feel it
Between scrunched eyes and clenched teeth.

06/07/20

Cultivating contentment
In our imitation of intimacy,
I wonder whether
I could ever
Be satisfied
By constant cups of tea
And pecks on the cheek.

04/07/20

We are zombies.
Not from the bite but from our lips
As kisses decayed into frigid pecks.
Cold and corpse-like,
We’ve been dying ever since.