My Love Resembles

My love resembles A smattering of prose Lady, I beg you Won’t you touch those toes? I’ll create any dream you like Stories, poems or tales Infatuation lingering now Smitten with all you avail I wish for your subtle tease But I can’t handle your stare I’ll write anything you please Though I fear you’re

She Was Enraged

She was enraged But it was merely an aesthetic Undiagnosed shakedown calamity Her stare leaving me cold & pathetic She asked me why I was a Pisces I told her I used to drink like a fish Though attempts at humor fell flat I was awkward; she was such a dish I’m not as spectacular

Margaret Chittenden

“Many people hear voices when no one is there. Some of them are called mad and are shut up in rooms where they stare at the walls all day. Others are called writers and they do pretty much the same thing.” ― Margaret Chittenden