Forgotten verse is like forbidden flame
I can’t remember poetry, her name
Is beautiful, but on my broken brain
I feel her song and feel I am disdain
I know they say I shouldn’t beat myself
But feeling doesn’t sit upon my shelf
And she can sing my disdain anytime
My poetry is full of trashy rhyme
But I would write her actions like the beat
of heart to heart or love that’s incomplete
One line may be the source of what we feel
I find the line and will before her kneel
reciting words that mimic beauty’s form
but wanting only taste of her that’s warm.