Poetry I wrote you some flowers

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Kids, let me tell you about the story of the tortoise and the hare. One day, long ago, the hare was going around the animal kingdom, always showing off how fast he could hop. Up and down the street he would hop, always making fun of all the other animals because they were too slow to keep up. The hare went to find the slowest animal he could, just so he could laugh at them. He found the tortoise. He started going off about how he was so much greater, but the tortoise simply said “if you’re so fast, race me, and we’ll see who’s really the best”.

The next day, the tortoise and the hare had their race. The tortoise showed up early, and stretched her legs as hard as she could stretch them. The hare showed up late, and didn’t bother stretching. He knew he would win.

And so, on their marks, they got set, and were off! Right away, the hare hopped and hopped and kept going, almost all the way to the finish line. When he was just about to finish, he looked back, and saw that the tortoise had barely moved an inch. The hare laughed, and thought for a moment that he could take a long nap and still wake up in time to win.

This, of course, was hyperbolic thinking. The hare hopped over the finish line, and even went all the way back to the start to beat the tortoise a second time.

The moral of the story is that tortoises are slow and hares are fast.

 

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i need no soft lights to enchant me
if you only grant me the right
to hold you ever so tight
and to feel in the night
the nearness of you

 

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i can never go home again
but still for all my wandering
i cannot find what i started for
and know not why it’s yet unfound.

 

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Each night, my love crawls into bed with me
and holds me close
and runs fingers through my hair
Just like you used to.

Each night, my love crawls into bed with me
and puts its hands around my throat
and makes me suffer for ever loving
Just to spite me.

 

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i took a walk
down to the river
(to see if it was like
you
and it was)

it didn't have the answers
just like you
(but it had
water
and waves).

 

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I don’t know.
I don’t think I ever did.

 

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do i look like
the words
on this page

and are we so lacking
that words can describe us

 

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It’s only a burning memory
brought to embers and ash
of a name and a face
and times which passed

it’s only the warmth of a woman
who left long ago
whose life melted away
and who I no longer know

so sit by the fire with me
and watch the memories vanish
and feel her warmth
like I once did.

 

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She made me love poetry.

I didn't love anything before her
and I didn't feel
(not in the way people do)

but she loved things
like me
and music
and rabbits

and she made me love them too.

 

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I didn’t know I was asexual
but she always felt that I was closest in bed
when I was truthfully very far away
and she never found where that was.

She didn’t like me very much when I wasn’t away.

 

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She was from Puerto Rico
but just as pale as me
and just as bad a cook
but I could see the Caribbean in her eyes
just like I remembered seeing it
and the warmth of the sand
was the warmth of her breast.

 

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dominic has a doll
and i envy him
for having the same life as me
but loving it more.