Transparent Dresses Hanging In The Mud Room

Photo by Fidel Hajj on Pexels.com

Transparent dresses hanging in the mud room
Saran-Wrapped for mild protection
Eyes closed to foreign tales
Tempered thoughts of stifled affection

Painted prose with regurgitated eyes
Our dreams left choking on the floor
Scribbling beliefs with thick gouges
Manufactured truth with cries of Nevermore

Redundant weight of classical heroes
Forcing us into bastardized Groupthink
Yet my mind still wanders to her opaque passion
Chasing her dragon with endless ink

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 quite rare