#michaellottner

could combine their souls and the essence of who they are

into the art of words on the page in the world of poetry,

and i always loved how you

could consistently remind me that i am the stars and you are

the sky; that i am the sonnet and you are the prose

 when everything in

the universe became a

crazy, swirling world

which only consisted of

you, and me, and all the wilting

people who faded into the dust on the petals of flowers

 it was hard to believe that i

could have found

us—me and you,

still together, perfectly

intertwined with red

lips and coffee stains that reminded you of the perpetually flawed autumn rose

 i remember holding you and thinking that none of it—

none of this really matters

but then you told me not

to think of such things—to only worry of whether

i’d be able to forever hold you or if i

would never see you again, like a guitar player who misplaced his favorite pick

 and as we wander through the clouds, you

speak up and you say, “am i out

of my mind or am i out of

you, of this, of us?” i couldn’t understand what you meant and your

tone only brought me back to the natural

beauty of the world and the wondrous lust of two lovers in bed

 i tried to forget what you said, to

think of other things, to admire

you without thinking of your words, to detach your voice from

your soul, to push your melancholy remarks far

from my ears, maybe it would have been better to have never begun this forbidden conquest or

maybe it would have been better to have never let you venture so close to me, so near

 so i thought of what you said, of the vinegar in your

voice and the honey in your perfume,

maybe we were not meant for forever—

i thought more and i realized that in

all this time spent with me and my

thoughts, you had left, leaving only the shadow of you in my head

.

This poem is inspired by michaellottner‘s “(358) love divided by six.” If you read the end of each line in my poem, it makes up his poem “(358) love divided by six.” This concept is inspired by “The Golden Shovel” by Terrance Hayes

I’m not that big on poetry, I think it would be wasted on me. xP