poetry, it seems, comes easy
when authors have fallen in love.
words become utterly cheesy-
mushy, like light feathers of doves.
it can, alas, be sickening,
like vomit building up inside;
like the splat of all things nasty,
when the hard ground and you collide.
this has to stop, and end soon, please!
for authors can't function like this.
we need drama, pain, agony,
not drown in unspeakable bliss.
o, the torture it leaves us all
to be bound by such strong feelings:
of unicorns and honey-bears;
of pink, fluffy imaginings.
gone are the days of great grey gloom,
of thunderclouds and heavy skies.
all things now are in sanguine hues,
for my heart now in your hand lies.
MY GAD.... ANG CHEESY!!!!!!!
i love you, kapampangan quezo! :)